


Fever

by OrangeColoredSky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Stiles, Cheating, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Independent Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Wizard Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeColoredSky/pseuds/OrangeColoredSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills has served as a hidden area for supernatural beings for years. It masks many of it's residents from being sought out. Unfortunately this includes Stiles Stilinski, a Wizard who, from being tangled in with his best friend's pack, doesn't know who he is. Hermione Granger comes across his status while sorting through lost files after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“He’s either the best thing for her, or the worst. It’s not just that she makes him a better person, he changes her too. He challenges her, surprises her. Makes her question her life, beliefs.”  
– The Vampire Diaries

Prologue

Agonizing screams broke through the still silence on the east side of Beacon Hills. They almost weren’t human, but then again what was in this town? Shrill screams continued, growing from a most unbearable scale.

“STILES!!!” John Stilinski burst through the door of his only son’s bedroom. This had happened before; when the Nogitsune had taken over Stile’s body not a mere 7 months earlier. John’s face was covered with sweat and a pounding fear in the front of his mind; that he was going to lose his son for a second time, but this time it may be for good.  
However, this was different from before. The last time this occurred his son was asleep; crying to be awaken from the endless cycles of near life nightmares. But now Stiles was very much awake and cowering in the corner of his closet with his arms protecting his head. Books, his desk chair, hangers, and other misc. objects flew around his room, crashing this way and that.

John ran over and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You need to calm down, son. Remember, it gets worse the more afraid you are.”

This had started to happen a near month ago. Stiles had been sitting in class trying to concentrate on what coach Finstock was saying, when the peace of chalk flew out of his hand and shattered against the back wall of the room. Soon after, the magnitude of these occurrences grew. Eventually Stiles and the rest of Scott’s pack decided that it would be best if he didn’t go to school for a while. Mono was the excuse and it so far had kept from further questioning.

Stiles closed his eyes and drew in deep breaths, he started listening to his own heart beat for comfort. Soon all of the objects smashed to the floor, some breaking, in a heap.

“Are you ok?” his father asked, loosening the grip he held on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Dad?” His eyes were bloodshot, glazed over in fear of himself. “What’s happening to me?”

In John’s eyes, Stiles was a little boy. It was killing him that he had to see him go through what ever this was, and it was worse. Much worse because with no one (including the bestiary) had any clue as to what was causing this.

What was Stiles? 

Flashback (3 ½ weeks ago)

“When did this start happening?” Deaton paced around his pet examining table; a place Stiles never thought he would be again. Scott and Lydia were standing still beside their friend, trying to keep their fear for him inside. 

“A few days ago, I thought it was just a freak thing. Like a light going out.” Stiles explained. A few hours after the encounter in Coach’s class “it” happened again. But this time in the men’s locker room. He went to open is locker door when it flew off the hinges and clobbered into Danny across the bench.

“And you’re sure nothing out of the ordinary has happened?” the dark skinned man asked with a curious glint in his eye.

“Look. I haven’t been bit by anything if that’s what you’re asking.” Stiles started to explain before one of the office chairs in the other room slammed up against the metal outside door.

“Stiles you need to calm down. The more you get worked up, the worse it gets” Scott told him, holding a glowing red stare in Stiles’ direction.

It fallowed the same patterns that Scott had when he was transitioning into a werewolf, anxiety and anger brought out the nasty. But instead of this being physical, it was more supernatural. Everyone knows that Stiles is a naturally anxious person, and that is what sets Scott and Stiles apart; Scott’s control.

“What should I do?” Stiles wined, trying to calm himself down.

“For now I think you should just concentrate on keeping your emotions even. It would be the best thing for you and everyone around you.”

Stiles felt as if his life was falling apart. If someone could only explain what was happening to him, maybe he could learn to control it better. Whatever “It” was.


	2. Pitch

“Easy now, with my heart. Easy now, oh with my heart. Walk a tightrope, walk a little tightrope. You walk a tightrope, walk a little tightrope.”  
-Walk the Moon 

Pitch

“Miss Granger. Meryl Jenson asked if you could go through all of the resident files and make sure there aren’t any loose ends.”

After the war Hermione became an apprentice to Meryl Jenson. The overseer to all those magical and otherwise. The job consisted mostly of mapping out the magical community around the globe and helping those younger witches and wizards’ transition into Hogwarts or other magical institutions. 

Over the next few days it was Hermione’s job to sort and mark those files with either alive or deceased and file them accordingly. Since the ministry was temporarily taken over by Voldemort’s head men, this job in particular was rejected and thus needed extra attention. No, it wasn’t glamorous, but it got her foot in the door.

“I know, I started it this morning.” Hermione informed one of the Ministry heads as she walked down the hall with a stack of parchment in her arms and her wand tangled in her hair behind the ear. She had a bounce in her step, it was going to be a good day. The aged woman smiled warmly at the girl, almost wishing she had the same passion for this work that Hermione had.

After a good 7 hours of sorting and a half hour lunch break with Ginny, Hermione found something rather odd about one of the parchment files. A wizard by the name of Rupert Genim Stilinski. The scribbles on the page read that he would be about 18 by now. However the last time that the file was checked, marked 12 years ago. It looked like the boy just vanished off of the face of the earth. The foot notes read that because of his unusually high magic potential, he was not going to be getting a letter of acceptance from the American Magical Institution, but from Hogwarts instead.

He would have been in her year. She pondered over the thought. The parchment in her hands read similar to those of her own. “High magic potential” and “High retention rate” were just a few of the descriptions that seemed to match. They may have been friends…

“Beacon Hills, California” She outlined the location in the profile. She had never heard of the place herself, but figured it may be worth looking into. Not today though, for her time was up and she needed to go home, to take on another pointless evening with her ‘significant other’.

FEVER

“Good, your home. I can’t find my keepers helmet, do you know where it is?”

Hermione had yet to find her parents and lift the spell she bestowed on them prior to the war. That was her main priority, along with her position at the ministry. She had moved in with Ron, Harry, and Ginny in a moderate sized 2 bedroom flat above the book shop in diagonally. Everyone knows that after all the tragedy of the war, Ron and Hermione started dating as well as Harry and Ginny. However one person wasn’t too happy about this arrangement; Hermione. Over the past month or so she found herself becoming more and more distant from Ron. She was wondering through life. There had been so much build up to the relationship, that’s all it was – built up curiosity. 

She constantly found herself board, starving for excitement. Hermione didn’t want to think of it this way, but she missed being on the run with Ron and Harry. It made her feel important, like she has a purpose; a way to expand her mind. Something other than just sorting through old parchment paper with endless, faceless names.

Ron had become cocky as well. Sure, he would still look out for his friends in a heartbeat and be there for them when they really needed it. But he would rather be at the pub with Dean and Seamus than with her it seems. The only relatively healthy part of their relationship recently was their sex life, and that gets old after a while. She wanted more from him, some adventurous spark. She had tried to bring it up several times, but then would back off. She didn’t want to put any more strain on what they had that already was there. He was a rookie keeper for the Ballycastle Bats, and he loved it. Not just the game, but it seems that he was enjoying the lifestyle as well.

It wasn’t just Ron that she was having issues with. Along with their disappearing spark, Harry seemed to be drifting from her mind’s eye as well. He was in Auror training 6 days out of the week and despite being chased around his whole life, it was like he was becoming rather ordinary. She didn’t miss his angsty self, but she did miss being involved with his life other than just at home.

Ginny was a different story all together. Hermione and she had lunch every day, both of them working at the ministry. Ginny was working under her father in the care of muggle artifacts office. Not exactly following her dream of becoming a seeker. She wanted Harry to sort out his life before her own so they could start a family. Hermione, looking from the outside, wondered if that was the best idea. Shouldn’t their own personal ambitions come first?

“Ron, I have no idea where it is. I just got home and I need time to think.” Hermione explained to her boyfriend.

He scoffed. “About what, you’re off the clock. Mum says that it’s always a bad idea to bring work home. Says it leads to wrinkling and what not.” 

It was always “mum this” and “mum that”. Molly Weasley was a wonderful woman and all, but everyone and anyone could see that she had her sons’ wrapped around her finger.   
Ron always had some comment for self-preservation that started with “Mum says”. Oh yes, it was indeed a ‘mummy dearest’ situation. The thing that was to start all horror media. The idea made Hermione shiver.

“Well, unlike some, I really don’t mind. At least I know I’m helping for the greater good.” She half spat and her voice getting scarcely close to the annoying range.

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” He got in her face.

Hermione took a step back. “Nothing at all.” She went off to their bedroom and closed the door slowly to avoid an argument.

FEVER

A few days later, Hermione received what she had been yearning for. An assignment. Turns out there was way more to the Rupert Stilinski file than she had thought.

“Mrs. Jenson?” Hermione walked into her overseer’s office with the parchment files snug to her chest.

“Yes? Miss Granger?” Jenson asked, not bothering to look up from her rather unruly desk of disorganized papers and objects.

“I was going through the residents files, like you asked me to.” It was a new habit of Hermione’s, shaking in front of authority. She did her best every day to try and impress the people she was working for, but she was nervous that she was doing something wrong. “And I found something rather odd about this one here.” She held out the parchment and handed it to the woman.

“Let’s see…” Hermione watched at Meryl’s eyes outlined the page from top to bottom. “Hmmm…” Her eye brows knitted together before she reached for a small leaf of her own parchment and a quill. “I’m going to write a message to Jason Curtis, one of our on staff Aurors, I believe he may know something about this town.”

Hermione nodded and watched as Meryl folded the small parchment into a paper airplane and sent it on its way.

“What’s wrong with the file?” Hermione asked.

“Well I believe that it was misplaced a while ago. Normally, witches and wizards under the age of 11 are kept in their own place and then brought up to our attention to get them placed into a school. This one however never was brought up. I think it has something to do with the geographic region” Meryl started. “Auror Curtis did regional work in California a few years ago, he may know what this is.”

And almost on q the auror appeared at the door. “Overseer Jenson?” The man asked. He was tall, with crew cut hair, and seemed to be in his mid-40s.

“Yes, Auror Curtis. We have been expecting you. Come in.” Meryl stood up from her desk and ushered him through the door. “This is Hermione Granger, one of our apprentices in the department.” 

“Ah. Thee Hermione Granger I Presume?” instead of holding his hand out for her to shake it he did an honorable bow.

“Thank you sir. But it’s not really necessary, really.” Hermione blushed.

“Ah!” Curtis waved it off. “I am aware of the issue you speak of. Beacon Hills, California has had quite the reputation over the past few years as a sort of hub for magical creatures.”

“Sir, what sort of creatures?” Hermione asked with gaining interest.

“Mainly werewolves. There were a few incidences with Kitsunes a few months back, and a couple counts of banshees’. But I didn’t think there were any wizards in that area.” He thought out loud, playing with the go-tee on his chin.

“Maybe with all those creatures, his status was masked?” Meryl spoke up, sort out all of the facts in her head.

“That would be most logical.” Curtis tapped his aging index finger to his chin. “But I wonder if it’s causing problems for the wizard in question?”

“I read that wizards and witches that don’t learn how to properly use magic go insane.” Hermione pointed out to her two predecessors. 

“That is true Miss Granger.” Meryl looked at the young witch. “Would you be willing to go and check on the situation? A young witch such as yourself shouldn’t be cooped up in this stuffy office all the time.”

“Ma’am I would be honored.”

Hermione stuffed her cloths into her shoulder bag. She didn’t know how to tell her friends that she would be leaving for a few days. Ron was off for training for the next week or so. Ginny and Harry were off at the Weasley’s for the weekend.

Hermione dropped a note telling them where she was going and that she would be back sometime next week. She took a deep breath and locked the flat door behind her. Walking down the stairs and into the alley she apparated to the location both Meryl and Curtis agreed was the safest area for her to appear in the U.S., the woods that scattered around all of the Beacon Hills area.


	3. Start

“Riddle me this, I gotta figure it out  
Are they laughing at me because I'm prone to fear and doubt”  
-Issues (Never Lose your Flames)

Start

Stiles sat in the dark. Knees bent up to his chin with one arm wrapped around his legs and a hand running, gripping through his hair. Breathing heavily, he looked around his bed room. It was a mess, the night before was the worst it had ever been and he had the bump on his head to prove it. It was getting to the point that even if he move a few feet something would come flying at him or around him.

Deaton suggested that he learn to control it, to concentrate. He looked over at the book falling apart a few feet in front of him and intently stared at it. The book lifted a few feet in the air. Stiles smiled at himself. A small defeat, but it was progress. Though the joy was short lived. Four of the markers on his white board flew up as well and slammed into his head board.

“Fuck.” Stiles curled up into a ball on his bed. Dare not move for the fear of hurting himself.

FEVER

“I’m here to see Rupert Stilinski.” 

Hermione stood in front of the main desk in the Beacon Hills High School Administration office. She had walked a mere 2 miles to get there and had received some strange looks from the students and could hear some comments as well. “Who’s that?” “Another knew student?” “Don’t we have enough of those?” “What is she wearing?” That last comment confused her; she thought black leggings and flannel was what teenagers wore now.

“Who?” The receptionist lady asked her, looking out of sorts.

Outside Scott was standing near the door. Out of earshot and out of sight. He noticed the strange girl walk through the doors. He could sense something was off about her. Her smell was odd, not human, nor was it any other creature he had come across. He followed her over to the office and listened. ‘Rupert Stilinski’; that was Stiles’ name. His real name. The only two people who knew about it besides Stiles’s dad was he and Malia, Stiles’s girlfriend. How would a girl Scott had never seen before know this about his best friend?

“Here.” Scott’s ears perked up again at the distant sound of the girl’s voice. “I have this file, from my superiors.”

Hermione was able to transfigure the parchment into an ordinary looking file that read like a basic profile; no magical vocabulary included. “See right here?” She pointed to the name on the small tab at the top of the folder.

The receptionist took a closer look by leaning in and tilting her glasses down to the tip of her nose. “Miss, I’m afraid I can’t release any information about any of our students here. Confidential, unless you’re a student here.” She began. “Otherwise I’m sorry. But there is nothing I can do to help you.” She looked up at Hermione for a moment before looking back at her computer screen to continue what she was doing before she was interrupted by the witch.

Hermione’s face fell slightly. “Thank you ma’am.” She said plainly. 

She was so enthralled in her thoughts about what her next plan of action was, Hermione bumped head on into someone on her way out the door and fell to the floor. Her bag going one way and her folder the other.

“I’m so sorry!” She said rushing frantically to collect her things, not into the person in which she had just collided.

“No, my fault. Let me help.” Not going to lie, Scott had done that on purpose; running into her. He needed an excuse to meet her, and one that was a little less creepy than telling her that he had just eavesdropped on her conversation.

He bent down to the floor to reach for the papers that fell from her grasp, but she quickly intercepted him and shoved them into her bag. “Sorry, these are… confidential.” She mumbled before balancing herself on her foot to get up. He reached out a hand to help. “Thank you.”

“Stiles.” Scott said, squinting his face almost immediately after. He needed to say something to her.

“I’m sorry?” Hermione’s British accent was soft, not quite sure what he had just said.

“The guy you’re looking for” Scott bit his tongue. “He goes by the name of Stiles.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up, hoping the boy in front of her may be able to help. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“He’s home sick.” Scott stuck to the story, he didn’t want to give too much information away. “He’s actually my best friend. I could tell him someone is looking for him?” he offered.

Hermione looked around her to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “Actually, it is really important that I get in contact with him as soon as possible. He’s…” She cut herself off. She had no idea who the dark skinned boy in front of her was. He could be making the whole thing about him and the boy in question being friends up. How did he even know why she was here? For all she knew he could just be messing with her.

“His dad is the town Sheriff. If you want, I could show you to the police station?” Scott offered, this girl seemed really adamant that she speak with Stiles, did she know what was going on with him?

“…ok” She said quietly. Taking in a deep breath she introduced herself. “I’m Hermione, and you are?”

“Scott” He held his hand out for her to shake. She hesitated for a moment before briefly accepting.

FEVER

Scott had lead Hermione out to his motorcycle, if that’s what it was, more like a dirt bike. She was very out of sorts about that. She had never rode one, nor had ever wanted to. He handed her a spare helmet, and she took it. Not sure if this was a good idea on her part.

The police department wasn’t too far away, maybe 15 minutes, it was enough to give Hermione a head ache though. The scenery was a blur around her, the greens of the trees melding with the greys and browns of the town.

“You ok?” Scott asked, smelling her discomfort.

“I’ll be ok, I just need to walk it off.” ‘And maybe charm this away’ she thought to herself, tossing the helmet in Scott’s direction. She took note of his cat-like reflexes when he caught it in midair with one hand.

The building was small, it reminded Hermione of the library in her home town. The way the spaces were laid out and the not so distinct shape of the not so original building. “Do I just go in?” she asked her new companion. 

“I’ll take you in, he’ll let you in right away.” Scott trotted up to the front door and opened it to allow her entrance. He was being as nice to her as he could, in attempt to get on her good side. In the past hour he had known her, he could sense that she didn’t trust him at all. Most people just give trust without a second thought, she was guarded though, like she was ready to fight if need be. The thought was unsettling.

“Scott? What are you doing here?” A man around 50 walked up to the two of them. “Who’s this?” The man pointed at Hermione. She observed him carefully and saw the gold sheriff’s badge pinned to his kaki shirt.

“Free period. This is Hermione, she’s looking for Stiles.” The man raised his eye brows.

“Sir? Could I have a moment of your time?” She asked. She seemed very official, like she had some experience in law enforcement.

“Would you like to go into my office?” John couldn’t help but think that this girl knew something about his son. Something no one else could pin point yet about his frantic behavior and sudden ability to subconsciously move objects.

“Please” Hermione responded and followed him into the office. Scott was going in as well, but she stopped him. “This is private, sorry.” 

She talked with such authority. Not that her accent wasn’t helping, it made him even more suspicious of her. He plopped himself on the wood bench outside John’s office and tuned his ears to behind the glass embellished door. But something blocked his hearing. The voices were muffled instead of clear; he wasn’t able to make out any of their conversation.

Upon entering the sheriff’s office, Hermione whispered a concealment charm; one that would prevent eavesdropping. She did it so subtle, no one noticed her flick her wrist and say the incantation.

“Alright, Hermione, care to take a seat?” John gestured to the chair set in front of his desk while he sat behind.

“Thank you Sheriff.” She pleasantly took his offer and perched herself into the chair. 

“Now, what is it you want to say?” He intently asked, folding his hands on the desk in front of him.

Hermione reached for the file in her bag, she had put two inside, the fake one she had used earlier at the school and another which held the real parchment file. “This came to my attention a couple days ago.” She slid it onto the desk in front of the sheriff.

“What is this?” Almost immediately he noticed the intricate inked scribble that read his son’s name. He unfolded the parchment and began to read what was written.

“Sir, have you noticed anything strange going on in this town?” Hermione began, she had carefully rehearsed what she was going to say before walking into the office. Completely ready to answer any questions that came her way.

John didn’t speak for a few minutes. He was too enthralled with what was in front of him:  
Ministry of Magic Official Notes; Residential Persons’ Division  
Name: Rupert Genim Stilinski  
Status: Wizard – Living

“Is this a joke?” There was a hint of malic in his voice as he placed the parchment flat on the table.

“No sir, not a joke. And I’m sorry this wasn’t brought forth sooner.” Hermione’s voice fell flat, trying to figure out what to say next. This wasn’t going as smoothly as she had hoped. When she found out she was a witch, here parents were surprisingly accepting to the idea. “I work in the Residential office at the Ministry in London.”

“England?”

“Yes sir.”

“And what are you?” He asked her, tapping a pen against the dimple in his chin.

“What am I?” She looked confused. She was a witch, but is that what he meant?

“We have Werewolves popping up all over this town lately, other weird things too. Are you a werewolf?” He explained this like it was not new information, an everyday thing.

“I’m a witch sir” She noticed is face turn in odd directions. “Broomsticks and wands?”

“Pointy hat?”

“No… well not specifically me.” She thought back to her professors which wore pointy, elegant hats. Professor McGonagall was one.

“And Stiles, my son, is a…” John peeked back down at the scribbles in front of him. “Wizard.”

“They are one in the same; witches’ and wizards. One is male and one female.” A smile played on Hermione’s lips, this was going better.

“He’s been having issues lately, I’ve been keeping him out of school.” John figured this might be the reason for his son’s sudden abilities. 

“What kind of issues?” she knew what the answer was, though she hoped it wasn’t true. This situation would be a lot harder if it was.

“He can’t move or look at anything without it going out of control. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself.”

And there it was. “I believe your assumption would be correct. Someone should have come to you when Rup… Stiles was 10 to tell you this. But there is a barrier around this town, one that makes our systems hazy. I have no idea who are the werewolves. As far as I know Stiles is the only Wizard here.” However she had a suspicion about Scott.

“Can you help him now?” John was becoming desperate, he couldn’t lose Stiles.

“That’s why I’m here”


	4. Control

It doesn't hurt me.  
Do you want to feel how it feels?  
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?  
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?  
You, it's you and me  
Placebo (Running up that hill)

Control

The house was quant. It reminded Hermione of her house back in London. The house her parents had, before she sent them away. She followed John up to the front door, no light shone through the glass pane as she peeked into it to get a look.

The Jangle of his keys sounded before the door was unlocked. “Ladies first.”

She nodded and walked through the opening. To her left stood a table with mountains of paper littering it, some spewing onto the floor. She assumed that they were case files the sheriff had dug through in the past few weeks. It looked strangely similar to the office she was currently working in. To the front of her was a steep stair case that seem to go on for a while because of the lack of lighting.

“His room is the first to the right at the top. Do you want me to go with you?” John gestured upwards. The concern that riddled his face was almost too much for Hermione to fathom. She hadn’t been told much about the boy in question, other than logistics and basic info about all of his friends belonging to the magical community. But something told her that there was much more going on than just the simple ‘he’s the only human’ statement.

“It might be wise, at least for an introduction sir. I personally wouldn’t want someone walking in on me that I don’t know if I were this scared.” She told him and took a step forwards up the stair case.

John opened the door to the right. It was dark, almost too dark for being midafternoon. A blanket was draped over the window and objects were scattered all over the place. “Stiles?” John’s voice reached the boy in the corner of the room.

“Dad?” Stiles was curled into a ball on top of his bed. The small amount of light that shone through highlighted some features on him what wasn’t so appealing; red circles eliminated is half closed eyes and his hair was sticking up in all ways. It looked oily, like he hadn’t gotten out of that bed in days. His skin was pale as well. Almost so white she may have been mistaken him for a ghost. The only redeeming quality here was the amber colored eyes that peered through the bright red rims.

“This is Hermione, she can help you” John explained. She stepped out from behind him and walked over to the side of the bed.

“What?” Stiles sat up. But was still folded in on himself, like he was trying not to cause harm. 

“Hello, Stiles” Hermione offered softly, trying to make her position less intimidating.

“Who are you?” There was a small rattling noise that came from the desk. John watched as the girl put one of his son’s hands in her own. Almost immediately stopping the movement. Stiles’s eyes went wide on curiosity and looked at her in surprise.

“I’m like you” She said in a whisper. She was told that it was easier to break the news to someone by seeming less then herself, more on his level, to bring on a sort of comfort. 

“Am I… am I going mad?” His voice cracked as he took his hand away and scooting back onto the bed.

Hermione warmly smiled for a moment. “No, you’re not going mad. Not in the slightest, though it probably seems that way right now.”

“How did you stop it?” He asked, looking over at his desk and then back to her briefly.

“Magic” She animated her hands to make it seem all whimsical. Trying to be funny, which she was never good at anyway. She didn’t see any change in his expression. Her smile fell. “See, I’m a witch. I was born to non-magical parents too, I didn’t know until I was near 12 years old.”

“And I’m like you? A witch?” he asked not looking at anything in particular, just trying to avoid looking at her.

“Well yes, but we have a name for male witches, Wizards. I’m so sorry that I’m telling you this know, normally the ministry sends out orders for this information when one is 11.” She realized after she said it that she said a little bit much.

“Ministry?” he looked her in the eyes now. “Like a witches’ council?” Stiles was still Stiles, even though he was tired to the point of falling over, he was still spot on when it came to figuring things out.

She was shocked. He was smart, smarter than she had anticipated. “Yes, there’s a little bit more to it than that. But essentially yes.” She wanted to ask how he knew, but she didn’t want a trigger to go off and allow him to get out of control with his own magic. “Was this all you?” She asked, referring to the disheveled room.

“Yeah… that was me. How do I stop it?” As soon as he muttered those words, a dresser drawer flew out from his dresser and landed across the room only to be smashed to pieces. “I’m sorry.”

The occurrence scared her. She had no idea that he would be this strong. She sat down next to him on the mess of sheets and blankets tangled on the bed. “Close your eyes.” He did what he was told. “Good now breathe and think about a good memory.” Hermione continued. “Let it consume you.”

The whole thing was very odd for Stiles. But her instructions were helping him. And right now he needed all the help he could get. Hermione’s presence was oddly comforting, too comfortable.

“Normally you would have gone to school to learn how to control it.” She breathed after a while of silence. John was long gone from the door way to allow Hermione to do her work. “I have a couple options for you. Both of which I have spoken to my superiors about.” She waited a moment for him to blink, or do anything. But he just kept his eyes shut.

She went on about the two options. He had an uneasy demeanor, but kept his mouth closed. Option one is he stay in Beacon Hills and she stay around for a while to help him out. This option would take longer, in her opinion, because he wouldn’t be around others of his own kind. As weird as that sounds, to learn as fast as possible. The second option was that he was to go back to London with Hermione and be immersed in the magic world. The one problem with that is Hogwarts had yet to reopen, so he would have to stay with her or someone else, leaving them to deal with his issues.

“I’m going to need to talk things over with my… friends.” After hearing her speak, that was the only thing he could think to say. They depended on him so much, and to be honest, he didn’t want to leave home - leave everything behind.

“Are you going to tell them about…”She didn’t have time to finish her sentence.

“Yeah, I tell them everything. And, well… most of them aren’t Human either” Stiles explained. At this point in the conversation he was rapidly biting his nails and trembling like a cat in water.

“Werewolves.”

“How did you know?”

“Beacon Hills is a highly concentrated area for magical creatures. Werewolves seem to be the biggest… population wise here, in this town at the moment.” They were, at this point, sitting next to each other. She sitting at the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap and he sitting cross legged facing her.

He looked up, still slightly shaking. “How old are you? You seem to know a lot… about this, stuff.” The rambling of his voice seemed to have also offset all of the hangers in his closet to unhook and fall to the floor in a heap.

Hermione stared at the pile and laughed. Not because of what just happened but because of the question. “I’m 19.” There was a lot more to that number than just being a number. She had done more at his age than most people would go on to do in a life time. She wanted to tell him more, but again, too much information that he doesn’t need to know right now, not in his current… condition.


	5. Jump

Your tears on the runway  
You think you're running away  
And you're leaving all your troubles behind  
But I'm not going with you this time  
I don't wanna try to pretend I'm somebody else  
Take me as I am or be left alone

Issues (Tears on the Runway Pt. II)

Jump

“And this is real?” Scott asked his best friend. “Like really real?”

Stiles and Scott were sitting in Stile’s Jeep, parked outside the High School. Stiles had just explained to him what went on at his house the night before. Scott was so confused about the whole situation that he didn’t know what to tell Stiles about the ultimatum Hermione had given him. 

“It’s… I’m scared Scott.” Stiles confessed, chewing his thumbnail while waiting for his brother to respond.

Scott turned is head to the side to get a better look at his friend. “Remember when I turned?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Stiles huffed.

“It’s the same thing Stiles. The only difference is I’m a werewolf and you’re a wizard. I want help you get through this.” Scott reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks dude, but the episodes are going to keep happening if I don’t decide what to do.” They were referring to the moments when Stiles couldn’t control the magic; episodes.

“Dude, bro… I don’t know what you should do. This is a choice you have to make, but whatever you choose we will all be behind you.” Scott felt as if being Stile’s alpha should give him some sort of insight, but he was completely lost.

“But Malia, what about her?” Stiles and his werecoyote girlfriend had been together for a couple months know. He seemed to be the only thing she actually cared enough about to try being human. Surely he should stay around for her.

“She matters. Stiles, she does. But we are sort of in uncharted territory with you at this point. We all have… experience with what she is; me, Lydia, Liam… we can all help her. But you, we have no idea of how to help you, other than support.” Scott felt like he was talking in circles.

Stiles scratched the back of his neck and lowered his head to the top of his steering wheel. “Thanks Scotty. I’m not really sure what to do with that.”

“What’s she like?” Scott had already met Hermione before. It was brief and she was in a complete rush to get to Stiles and now he knew why. The Supernatural world was expanding, getting bigger with each passing day. This was making leaps and bounds above what he had already known.

“Who? Hermione?” Stiles’s head was still resting on the wheel, eyes fixed on the dashboard. “She’s… alright I guess. There’s sssomthing about her. Like she’s been through something.”

“Been through something?”

Stiles barley picked up his head to look over at his best friend. “Yah. Like when you look into her eyes… I don’t know, somethings… off about her.”

“Huh.” Was all Scott said before a long silence broke out.

The two boys had been through everything together. Since they were 10 they had always had each other’s backs, and even through all the supernatural stuff the past couple of years. Scott didn’t want to treat Stiles any different than he had treated Liam or Lydia when the found out about being not exactly human. Though this felt different to Scott; Stiles didn’t change into anything different and scary, no horrible screams. He was just Stiles, the same as he had always been in the last eight years Scott had known him. 

People seemed to constantly be coming and going in Scott’s life. Allison, Aiden, Ethen, Isaac, even Derek. But the one person that was always left was Stiles. If he were to leave, Scott would be losing the one stable relationship he had left in his life.

“I don’t want you to go” Scott spoke, more to himself than the boy he sat next too. Stiles perked his head up, waiting to hear more. “You have had my back through everything, you’re like my security blanket… your my brother.”

“What? I’m ratty and torn?” Stiles sarcastically commented.

“No. I’m saying that I always figured you’d always be here, by my side helping me with all the crazies. But now I know that right know you need to do what is best for you. When I changed, I had Derek here to help. Granted I didn’t want him anywhere near me, but looking back I’m glad he was here.” Scott did not want to show any emotions what so ever, it would just make things that much more complicated. But he couldn’t help a tear well up in his right eye, because what he was about to say next would change their lives, really everyone’s lives, dramatically – possibly catastrophic. “I think you should go, I don’t want you too – none of us do – but I have this feeling that things are going to get worse if you stay with us here.”

“Scott I…” Stiles’s mind was swirling with all different kinds of words. What was he supposed to say to that? And the more he got worked up about what was going on, the more the jeep began to shake violently. 

“Stiles?!” Scott half shouted. “Breathe!”

Before Scott could actually do anything the shakes stopped and a loud BANG sounded from the engine area of the vehicle. From beyond the Plexiglas of the jeep, the boys could see the vehicle had caught aflame. 

“Fuck….”

FEVER

Stiles paced around his room, chewing his thumb nail. He was so worked up that he began to turn a slight shade of purple, and small drops of sweat formed on his brow. There were so many notions going through his head: what was he supposed to tell Malia? What about his dad. Stiles’s father had single handedly raised him since he was ten, almost 8 years just the two of them. Now he was going to leave, and not just the area, the country.

“Stiles?” Hermione walked through the bedroom door.

He jumped about a foot in the air and whorled around. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I was just wondering if you had made up your mind yet? I was supposed to notify my superiors yesterday.” And almost as if on Q, a large Horned Owl perched itself on the bottom seal of Stiles’s window, not making a noise.

“What the, what is that?!” Not as if he hadn’t had enough jump scares today already. The first one was with the Jeep earlier that evening. Turns out that after the firetrucks came and his dad looked at it, she was regrettably announced totaled, or in Stiles’s case, deceased. 

It’s been an emotional day, in so many ways. 

“Oh, Mandy? She’s been circling the house all day.” Hermione replied rather nonchalant. 

“And what’s she doing here?” He had a feeling this Wizard stuff was about to get really complicated really fast.

“Oh! That’s how the post works in the Wizard world.” 

Stiles gawked at the owl for a moment, Mandy gawked her head at him, before shaking his head. “I have to go talk to someone.” He was referring to Malia. Stiles had made up his mind, he was going back with Hermione, but he had to tell Malia. He knew she wasn’t going to take the news well, if at all.  
“But Stiles…” Hermione needed to talk to him about things without him wandering off.

“Oh Yeah, I’m going with you, to Europe. I’ll be back in an hour or so to pack my things.” He said frantically before zooming out of his room.

Hermione’s upper lip curled into a smirk. She went and knelt down beside Mandy by the window. “Now I need you to send this to the Ministry.” She scribbled onto a scrap piece of paper that she found on Stiles’s desk, and handed it to the owl. “And I need this one delivered home.” She had a second note written to Ron, Harry, and Ginny; explaining that she was bringing work home with her. 

The large owl gave a rather small hoot just before dive-bombing out of the window and gliding off into the illuminated sky.

FEVER

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Malia used a book on her night stand to hit Stiles several times on the shoulder. He held his arms up over his face for protection, but it still hurt.

Stiles had gone straight to Malia’s after leaving his house. He sat her down in the kitchen and explained everything to her. Obviously, she did not like what she heard. She had screamed a couple times and smashed a few glasses to the floor in frustration, allowing her coyote to show. Surprisingly, this was the first time in over a month that he had stayed calm enough to not have an episode.

“Stiles! You can’t just come in here and tell me you’re moving. In with another girl no less!” It was a good thing her dad wasn’t home to hear anything.

“That’s not the point Malia!” He stood up to stop her from throwing a plate to the ground by grabbing onto her wrist. “I don’t know how to control this.” He looked her strait in the eyes, which had now turned a flashy cobalt. “And I don’t think I’m going to find out while staying here. it’s not safe for any of you while I’m here.”

Her eyes returned back to her normal color, and she dropped her tone in voice. “Stiles I… Have you told Scott?”

“It was his idea.” He let go of her wrist, didn’t manage to save the plate though. Malia’s hand had relaxed with her emotions and allowed it to fall to the floor, shattering into pieces. 

“Fine! But what about us?” She asked, turning her back to him as she walked away from the mess.

He followed her into the family room and plopped down into the nearest arm chair to rest his head in his hands. Rubbing his temples with his thumbs he mumbled “Malia, I do care about you. You know that.”

“I know, but how can we be together if you’re almost a world away?” her voice began to shake with every word as moisture started to glaze over her eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe… we should just… errr!!” He was frustrated. He had briefly rehearsed what he was going to say to her on the walk over. But this was hard, how was he supposed to tell someone that relied on him for pretty much everything that he wanted to break off the relationship? “I think was should stop seeing each other… for now” He added that last bit because he saw her eyes glaze over.

“W…Why?” She was trembling. She loved him. She knew he didn’t feel as strong for her, but it should count for something.

“Because, Malia” he breathed. “I don’t know when I will be back. I want you to live your life the best you can. If I’m in the back of your mind all the time, you may miss something along the way.”

“You mean someone.” It wasn’t a question, she wasn’t an idiot. He was referring to someone else showing up while he’s away. “But I Love You, Stiles. Not some random stranger I may or may not meet.”

He moved his palm form his forehead down to his chin. He was not necessarily frustrated at the moment, just tired of having to find ways to comfort her and make this as easy as possible. And that L word, she had said it a couple times before. However, he didn’t really know what love is, exactly. Was he in love with her? It was a constant question that bounced around in his head. 

“And I don’t want to be the reason not to. I’m sorry, so sorry… please accept this. Maybe if I come back one day and you’re still here… maybe then, but not know.” He could see tears falling from her eyes through the dim light in the room. He got up and walked over to the couch to embrace her into a hug.

They sat there for a while, just enjoying the silence. Before too long Malia raised her head from his chest and kissed him. He responded willfully; digging his fingers of one hand in her hair and the other grasping her hip.

In a way, he felt like saying goodbye like this would bring them closure. Both for her and him.


	6. Tear

If heavens grief brings hells rain  
Then Id trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday   
(I know I’m bad news)   
for just one yesterday

Fallout boy (Just one yesterday)

Tear

A backpack and a medium sized suite case sat in front of the front of the door the next morning.

“Now son, you’re positive you want to do this?” John Stilinski looked his son in the eyes. He was leaving, and John had no Idea when he was coming back. If he even was coming back. “Because you don’t have to. We could figure this out, just like we did with Malia, like you did with Scott.”

“Dad I have to do this. I just… have too, ok?” Stiles pulled his father in for bone crushing hug. The past few days had been a whirlwind for both of them.

Just an hour before, all of Stiles’s friends showed up to wish him good luck and say their goodbyes. Liam looked confused, Stiles was always the one backing up his opinions. Heck, he was the one that helped him control himself when he was first turning. Liam saw both him and Scott as older brothers. Stiles leaving would definitely have an impact on him.

Lydia hugged him goodbye, but refused to cry on account of her comment “we’ll all see you soon” Optimistic, that one. The issue was Stiles saying goodbye to her, he had been “in love” with her since the third grade. And until recently, hadn’t stopped.

Malia didn’t bother to show up. Which didn’t bother Stiles. Their conversation the night before and the kiss they shared after was enough. No more needed to be done or said. Though, Stiles’s heart strings seemed to ache for her, their situation.

Scott was the worst one. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep all night. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had spent the last few days crying. In a way he had, this was almost as stressful for him as it had been for Stiles. The two of them gave each other a strong hug that seemed to last forever; that almost made Lydia cry.

Hermione felt awful. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into when she took this assignment. Secretly, she was wishing she was looking for someone like Harry was before he found out: someone with no friends and was being used or mistreated. But instead she found someone who was more loved than anyone she had ever known. Someone with so many friends that it hurt.

“Stiles, I’m sorry.” She said when the two of them walked out of the house.

Stiles swung his bag over his shoulder and pick up his suitcase. “It’s not your fault. If anything I should be thanking you.” His whole persona twitched as they began walking down the driveway. “Where are we going anyway?” It was odd that they weren’t taking his jeep to the airport, or train station, or whatever form of transportation they were using to get back to London. 

“Oh!” Of all the things Hermione had told Stiles about her world, their world, she forgot to tell him about travel. “You see, the way we are using to get there isn’t you conventional way of getting from place to place.” Though she had apparated into town, they were using a port-key to get out. There was a law that you couldn’t apparate wizards that hadn’t gotten a diploma. New rule since the war ended… there were a lot of those. “We are using a port-key.”

“A port- what now?” His curiosity was almost enough to get him into a good mood.

“It’s an enchanted object that can transport you anywhere by just touching it.” Hermione explained, looking over at him fondly. 

“Did you do that yourself?” He was definitely in a better mood. 

“I did, it’s simple actually. As long as you know how longitude and latitude works.” There were a lot of knowledgeable parallels between the muggle and wizard worlds. The understanding of the natural world was one of them; where science and magic meet. It’s the reason Hermione loved learning so much. It put it all into perspective. And the more Stiles learned about the parallels, the more he loved it as well. Almost as if they were running on the same circuits or something.

“Something I’ll learn?”

“Certainly.”

The two of them walked side by side for the next half hour, talking about what he should expect once they arrived. He had a hard time wrapping his mind around anything she was telling him. That and he just wanted to tune her out, see for himself what this other world was.  
They had reached the edge of the Beacon Hills reserve. It was odd in a way, this was where Scott had been turned into a werewolf. Now it was where Stiles would begin his story, no longer the sidekick and no best friend by his side.

“So… where is this key?” He asked, looking at the tree line and the wire fence that encased it.

“Just a little farther, I needed to hide it where other people wouldn’t be able to accidently stumble upon it.” Hermione walked on with ease. Again, he wondered about her. What had happened to her in the past that had given her this strong persona? Has she been this way all her life? He felt very out of practice, if that’s even the right word, to say the least.

She walked a head of him a few feet and shuffled through the fallen leaves. “Now I know that I left it here somewhere.” She stopped in front of a tree and dropped to her knees to dig in the foliage and damp soil. 

Stiles walked up behind her. Her hands stopped and pulled something from the ground; it looked like a rock, but perfectly square with a dull shine. “What is that?”

“Port key.” She used her hand to sweep off the dirt that covered the metal rock. She held it up for Stiles to see. “You can make them out of anything you want,” She hesitated and put it against his hand. “Grab hold. There’s only so much time before it starts working.” Stiles grasped on to the other side of the stone. He looked into her eyes, waiting for what was going happened next.

The ground swirled into the trees, with no distinction between the two. He felt like screaming, he face-planted into something not as soft as the ground he was just on.

“Come on Stiles.” Hermione grabbed his shoulder to tug him up. 

Looking up he noticed that they were in an ally; rather old looking stone buildings in front and on either side. “Where are we?” Hermione took his hand and spun him around to face the opposite direction. Multitudes of people walked by. 

‘Strange’ Stiles thought. People were walking by the opening. But not like he would have seen at home. It was bright, with lots of happy colors were whizzing about. Women and Men alike dress from head to toe in robes of every color from bright pink all the way to deep black. Children were laughing as well, chasing each other; zig zagging about.

“This is Diagon Alley.” She started walking into the street, Stiles behind her, feeling slightly out of place.

“You live here?” His eyes were taking in all the things that were to be scene in a place like that. Most of the buildings were mismatched in their heights with just as equal mismatched color schemes. He wondered what life would have been like if he would have come here earlier like he was supposed to. The things in the windows fascinated him to no end; books, brooms, caldrons and other magic supplies. 

She watched him, the way he was reacting to everything. She was surprised he was so composed at the mere sight of the events around. “Just above the book shop,” Hermione pointed to a top story some blocks a head.

“And you live there alone?” He asked, taking his attention away from everything around him and focused on the smaller witch ahead of him. 

“No… I” She hadn’t told him. How could she forget to tell him! She mentally was bashing her head against the wall for the untimely mistake she had made. She had a boyfriend and two best friends she was living with. She slapped herself on the forehead lightly. “I live with my two best friends… and my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. Maybe a roommate or two, definitely not what she had just said. “And I’m staying?”

“With me for the time being.” She said, picking up her pace as she walked ahead. “It’s ideal. And anyways Ron’s off at Quidditch camp for a few weeks and Harry’s at Auror training. The only one who should be there is Ginny; she works at the ministry as well.”

Many, Many things were swirling inside Stiles’s head. ‘What’s an Auror? And what the hell is Quidditch?’ Both questions he was going to ask later.   
The two of them walked in front of a shabby book store. “above.” Hermione pointed to the row of windows, then let her hand drop but not her gaze.  
“The whole thing.” The building was huge, how were they able to afford all of it?

She looked over and laughed at him. “The whole thing.”


	7. Falling

Every morning, I'm staring shadows in the eye  
Oh good morning, will you just wait until I die? Tell everybody, tell everybody  
Brothers, sisters, the ending is coming

Imagine Dragons (fallen)

Falling

Stiles watched as Hermione scowled while she fumbled with her keys to find the right one. 

“Do you have it?” He asked her after a couple minutes of watching her struggle.

“Yeah… I really need to sort out these at some point.” Finally, her fingers stopped struggling to reveal a silver key with a very original jagged lock edge. But just before she could put the key into the hole under the door knob, it opened.

Out came a flash of red, running strait into Hermione’s arms; Crookshanks. On the other end of the door stood one of her roommates, Ginny. 

“Hermione!” Ginny wore a weary look. “Where have you been?” She sounded so much like her mother, Molly, that it sent shivers up Hermione’s spine.  
In total, she had only been gone a grand total of 6 days. She didn’t feel like that was long enough for anyone to worry over, especially since she knew that everyone knows that she could take care of herself, no one would ever argue that (except maybe Ron, but he doesn’t count in Hermione’s book).

“And who’s this?” The ginger girl added, shifting her focus to the dark haired boy, her expression turning stern.

Stiles attention perked up. “Stiles.” He held his hand out for her to shake.

Ginny looked down at the pale, spotted hand outstretched in front of her. “Hermione, you said that you would be bringing ‘work’ home with you.” She used her index and middle fingers to make quotations, her face not impressed.

“I did. Stiles is a new wizard… of sorts.” Hermione explained, putting her hand up and tugging his arm down and shifting her bag tighter on her shoulder. 

“Can we get in?” Ginny was still blocking the door, but she moved ever so reluctantly. Hermione put down orange fluff ball that was her cat, picked up their things and lead Stiles inside. 

Stiles took it all in. It was a huge, in his opinion. The ceilings were higher than any apartment ever should have and there was a fireplace in what he assumed was the living room. All of the furniture was colored deep red to orange with gold embellishments and wood carving frames. The place was, in a word, regal. It reminded him about a book he read in Jr. High, “The Magician’s Nephew”.

‘Wow’ was the only word that could form on his lips, no sound came. Just this dumbfounded look on his face. A look that Hermione saw and inwardly chuckled at. Stiles had barely set a couple steps inside the loft.

“You alright there?” she asked after clearing her throat. He snapped his head over to her and nodded.

“Good, now I hope you don’t mind staying on the couch for a few days. We need to make some space for another room.” She smiled and put his things down at the edge of the couch. He had yet to comment, and instead was staring at the picture frame that held a moving picture of her and the rest of her group.

“Ginny… she seems…” He started in a hushed voice, he was well aware that the reluctant red head was still in earshot.

“Careful?” She finished his sentence. Hermione understood why Ginny was acting the way she was acting, and she didn’t blame her.

He looked over at her. “That’s one way to put it. I was thinking abrasive… soul lurking.”

She burst into as soft laughter, snorting a bit as she did so. “Maybe a bit of that too, but she’s a good person.” She back handed him on the shoulder. “One of my closest and dear friends.”

She looked down longingly at the picture. “That was taken a little over a year ago. Right after Bill’s wedding.” Harry was in the middle with Ron and Hermione on either side, with Ginny kneeling. They all looked close, as the moving picture waved at them… well everyone except miniature Ron, who was staring at Stiles with a stone look.

“Do these pictures have feelings?” Stiles asked, waving his index finger at the miniature Hermione.

“The true reflection of themselves.” Hermione grasped the photo and looked at her friends, her soft smile turning into a frown. “Of when the picture was taken.”

Stiles looked at how happy the mini her was. “What happened? You seem like a different person than in these photos.”

“And she was” Ginny had been somewhat hovering in the corner for the past few minutes, trying to determine if Stiles was a threat or not. “We all were.”

Hermione had wondered for a while about how happy Ginny really was about life after war. Yes, she spent more time with her out of the four of them. But Ginny had become guarded, the light somewhat leaving her being. As if the war had dulled her spirit. Most of their conversations had become purely about work, and not about emotion. Hermione wanted that, for her best girl friend to open up to her. Though, all things considered, she was a hypocrite. 

“Yes… but what happened.” Over the past few days, the obsession Stiles had to find out why Hermione was the way she was grew. As he spoke those words the anxiety that he fought so much to control came to the surface. All of the picture frames began to rattle and shift. Though the movement stopped the moment he unclenched his fist and took a small breath, Ginny’s eyes grew in suspicion.

“What the Bloody hell was that?” she gasped, starring daggers at Stiles.

“The reason he’s here.” Hermione began to explain, desperately wanting Ginny to look at her. “It’s an impulse, like when we were kids and couldn’t control our abilities.”

The ginger girl backed away, her expression between being concerned and void. “I need to owl Harry.”

Once gone, Hermione exerted a huff before plopping down on the couch. Stiles stood blankly at what just happened and absent mindedly sat next to her.

“There was a War.” She started, trying to collect herself. “It started a long while ago, when we were just babies” Finally, Stiles was getting what he wanted.   
Hermione continued to speak about her 6 years at Hogwarts and all the heinous adventures her, Ron, and Harry were involved in. From the Stone, the Chamber, Harry’s godfather, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, to them joining the Order of the Phoenix and discovering the secret of the seven items of the horocroxies that bonded Voldemort’s soul to this world. She went in great depth about their search that started a year ago for the magical items and described their losses along the way.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, he knew something big was up with her. But never this big. It shocked him, what she had been though in her short life. Though he wasn’t entirely blind to the supernatural, well wizarding world. Still, she had had it way worse, in his opinion.

“And know you’re all just living out normal lives?” He asked a few minutes after Hermione’s automated trip down memory lane.

“As normal as they can be.” She brought her legs up and tucked her knees under her chin. “The papers are still bugging us and trying to get Exclusive stories. We can’t even leave this loft most of the time. Unless we leave to go to work, at least then they could make appointments instead of hassling us on the streets."

“…Well, I’m impressed.” Was all Stiles could think to say. “I’ve been through a lot myself, but never like that, not that… sinister.” Her ears picked up figuratively, was there something he wasn’t telling her?

The door creaked open suddenly, causing the two, whom had moved intimately, physically, closer to each other over the past few hours, to whip their heads around violently. A man with red hair stuck to his forehead with dried sweat wearing faded muggle jeans and an old green sweatshirt came through the door. 

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed under her breath, only Stiles was able to hear it. “I thought you were gone for a few more days.” She quickly walked over to him and wrapped her arms around Ron’s muscular torso. 

She figured that Ginny had yet to mention to Ron about their special ‘guest’ because he stood there with a look of confusion instead of anger. But it was going to turn that way if Hermione didn’t explain herself fast. 

“Who’s this?” He snarled, not bothering to even look at her and just stared Stiles down, much like his younger sister did earlier that day. “Are you bringing home strays now?”

“This is Stiles; He is my…” She was trying to keep the mood light, but she didn’t know what to say he was. Yes, he was essentially her assignment. She had now started to view him as a friend. “The ministry assigned him to me.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “He’s staying here?”

“For the time being.” She took his hand and led him towards the boy. “Ron this is Stiles - Stiles, Ron.” She was hoping they would shake hands. But as always, unless it was Harry, Ron didn’t like other men around his girlfriend. Especially with how close the two of them were when he walked in. 

Surprisingly Stiles also neglected to raise is hand. A dark expression loomed on his face, almost demon like.


	8. Chapter 8

If I told you what I was, would you turn your back on me?  
And if I seem dangerous, would you be scared?  
I get the feeling just because, everything I touch isn't dark enough  
if this problem lies in me

Monster – Imagine Dragons

Night

That first night in London was rough for Stiles. He had a pounding headache and a symphony of snoring came from both bedrooms in the flat. Hermione’s orange fluff ball of a cat plopped itself on Stile’s stomach, rolled into a ball, and continued to fall asleep. He too was lightly snoring… more like wheezing. Dark circles began to shade the underside of his eyes.

A couple hours previous was nothing less of awkward.

Not that getting approval from Ron was at the top of Stiles’ list. However, Hermione seemed to really want the two of them to become friends, or at the very least be civil. Something about Ron stirred something up, something that Stiles hadn’t felt since the void. He didn’t understand why though. Either than Ron showing classic signs of a “Dumb-Jock” stereo type, he otherwise was adequate. 

He tossed and turned on the squishy sofa. He put the cat on the ground before finally deciding to sit up. Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, he got to his feet and shuffled quietly around the living room.

He looked intently at the book shelf. All the bindings were leather and had either gold or silver lettering, most were big; around 1000 pages each. There was one book that stood out in particular: Hogwarts - A History. Stiles delicately traced the silver looped lettering against the deep brown leather bindings before taking the book of the shelf and thumbed through it, being careful with the yellowing pages.

There were notes scribbled on the margins of the pages, there were words crossed out near them from the original text. Corrections Maybe? The words were foreign to him. Tons of information about ancient lineages leading back about a thousand years resided in the content, along with course expectations and guidelines. He couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like if he would had the chance to actually got to go to the school like he was supposed to. Would he still be a tortured soul like he is know? Or would he have gotten the change to live a happier life?

He was so enthralled with the book that he didn’t hear someone walking into the room. “You’re up early.” A soft feminine voice noted.  
Stiles almost fell on his ass, if he wasn’t already on the ground. “Hermione… I” he started in his panic voice.

“It’s ok.” She looked over his shoulder and scanned the book page. “That’s my favorite book.” Her eyes lit up, it surprised him, how happy she looked.

“It’s a doozy...” He scanned as well. “Are these your scribbles?” he traced the black script with his long fingers.

“Yeah… there are inaccurate things in here.” She explained taking the book from him and began pointing out her favorite passages from it; mainly house elves and the origin of the school. To Stiles, theses passages were not the ones he personally would have picked out.

“And this is the most interesting thing I found in here.” Hermione stabbed her finger at a passage smack dab in the middle of the book. There was a picture on the page, of a wolf-like beast tearing apart a person, blood dripping from its jowls. The title of the page; Monstrous Human like beasts. 

“Werewolves.” Stiles said, a little shocked at the content.

She smiled and laughed slightly “Not just werewolves. Banshees, like your friend Lydia. Kitsunes, all types not just your thunder friend, Kira. Werecoyotes, like your girlfriend. Wendigos, and Vampires.”

“Vampires!?” Everything else that was supposed to be fake is real, why is it that vampires shocked him?

“Yes, there vary rare, and they have a community all their own, but they’re out there. And there more dangerous than anything you’ve ever imagined.” Hermione studied his face and saw almost the same dark look she noticed earlier, it was eerie. “I’m surprised you don’t know about them.”

“Well we just sort of took supernatural beings that came at us, only cannibal eating creatures that we have come across is a wendigo.” He explained, scanning the passage.   
They gabbed on for about an hour or so about the subject. Hermione was surprised, yet again, about how much Stiles knew, teaching him was going to be easier than she thought. Eventually, they decided it be was a ‘suitable time’ to do actual morning stuff. And with that came the rest of the house. Harry, Ron, and Ginny trickled into the kitchen with in a half an hour after 7 a.m. 

Hermione had wondered off to the shower before Ron appeared. Stiles sat a distance from the rest of them, reading the daily profit with wide eyes.

“What’s your name again?” Harry spoke towards the teenager. He had been very curious about the boy after Ginny sent an extremely stress owl to him the night before.

Stiles looked up from the illusion on the paper in front of him. The dark circles of red prominent under his dark whiskey colored eyes, his her flattened to his forehead and sticking up a little in the back. “Stiles Stilinski…” He was so used to going by his nickname that he didn’t remember half the time that he had a different birth name. “Rupert Stilinski, most people call me Stiles.”

“Well I know that these two” he gestured to his girlfriend and best friend. “But I’m not one to judge right away.” He leaned over the table and stuck out his hand. “Welcome, I’m Harry Potter.” Stiles placed the paper on the table and shook Harry’s hand.

“Thank you”

“You’re from America?” Harry asked, truly interested in the boy and his history.

“California”

“I think I heard something about a town there…”

“Beacon Hills” Stiles finished for him. “I guess it’s where creatures go when they don’t want to be found apparently”

The Harry’s lip curled upward. “It’s not the only town, there are several around the world. They are dead pockets, void of any magical detection. We don’t know why, but that’s how you and I imagine a few others slipped through the cracks in the ministries system.”

“I see…” Stiles’ eyes wandered towards Hermione, whom had just walked in after “cleaning up”.

She smiled slightly. “I see you two are being civil.” Her eyes flickered towards the two redheads in the room, her expression darkening. “Unlike some people.” 

Ginny headed towards the exit door. “I got to go to work”, Hermione could tell that she was uncomfortable with the whole situation. Ron’s jaw was clenching, and slightly turning red at the ears. He didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to.

“What am I doing today?” Stiles asked the brunette witch.

“Hmm, well you are going to clean up, take a shower. And we are going to go get you a wand. The ministry is expecting us at noon, so… tick tock.” She smirked, patting Ron securely on the shoulder as she walked past into the den.

Stiles stood up to grab a handful of cloths to change into and walked towards the bathroom. Ron was blacking the teen’s way. “Excuse me.”  
Ron pursed his lips together and reluctantly stepped out of the way. Stiles did not like this guy one bit.

HG&SS

“What is this place?” Stiles asked. 

They stood in front of an old shop; its wood looked like there was a lack of upkeep and the larger windows were musty. The gold letters read “Olivander’s”.

“It’s a wand shop, it used to be ran ban this man called Olivander” Hermione gestured to the letters. “But one of his nephews, Rawthorn, took over after his uncle passed a couple months ago.” It was tragic, the day the magical community lost one of its wand creators, Olivander. Good thing that his brother’s son had inherited the talent and graciously took over. 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and smoothed the front of his red and green flannel before entering the shop, right behind the witch.  
He glanced around the place for a moment before a soft, yet crackly voice greeted them. “Miss Granger! So lovely too see you today.” A man in his mid-thirties swiftly walked up behind the large oak desk. He was around 5’7 and had dark brown hair that seemed to be greying at the sides. His irises were almost the color of ice, he seemed wiser than his age.  
“Good morning Rawthorn.” Hermione greeted back sweetly. “This is Rupert.” She placed her hand gently between Stiles’ shoulder blades and nudged him forward. “He is in need of a wand.”  
Rawthorn eyed the teenage up and down, eyes swimming with question. “You’re a bit old to be getting a wand this late. Aren’t you, young man?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.” Stiles stated quietly, almost under his breath. 

“Bah! Look at me! Sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.” The older man patted his nose with one of his index fingers. “Would you mind stepping over here? The measure will need to properly asses you.”

Stiles’ eyebrows knitted together, looking over at Hermione, almost like asking for permission. She brightly nodded and gestured him up to the platform.

Stiles took his position and a small yellow tape measure came out of nowhere, suspended by itself. He stiffened as it took the measurements of his height, finger lengths, and head. Saying this was odd to Stiles is an understatement. 

When finished, the measure flew back to its keeper and Rawthorn wondered to the back of the store. He came back a couple minutes later with and armful of long, rectangular boxes. “Try this one.” He said, taking one of the boxes and handing it to him.

Stiles gently opened it to reveal a slender piece of wood that had a slight tinge of orange to it.

“Mahogany, that is. With phoenix feathers and 14 inches long.” The man smiled.

Stiles turned the instrument in his hands, not sure of what to do.

“Wave it.” Hermione whispered near his ear.

Stiles did what he was told. A small rattling happened, water shook inside the flower vase, but nothing spectacular happened.

“Bah!” Rawthorn exclaimed before retrieving the wand from the boy. He handed Stiles another box. This wand fail even more than the first one. Several boxes later, they came across a rather peculiar wand indeed. 

It was pure ivory, and a unicorn hair center; 15 inches. It had silver sketched swirls imbedded in the handle and an overall sleek look.

“That one’s special, not only does it have unicorn hair, but I also added mountain ash in it. An odd mixture, but I had fun with it. The ivory was rather hard to retrieve though. I however have a friend in Africa whom supplies me with it from time to time…” And the store owner rambled on. After a while, Stiles tuned the man out and pointed the wand towards the flower vase that sat in the corner of the store. The glass cracked and glowed bright gold before sealing back up again.

Hermione was the first to speak. “I think that’s the one?” She herself had never seen anything like that display before. Normally when one finds there wand, fireworks display or a gust of wind blows through.

“I believe so Miss Granger.” Rawthorn agreed. “It is peculiar though, that wand. Only powerful wizards should be able to use it. The base alone is so pure…”

Stiles stared at it for a minute, before putting it back into the box. “How much?”

Hermione took the box from him. “Don’t worry about it, the ministry told me that everything you get is on them… sort of an apology, I think?” She placed a pile of coins on the counter. “Thank you Rawthorn, I appreciate the discreation.”

The older man’s face went soft. “Not a problem at all Miss Granger.” He winked at Stiles and took a small bow before retreating to the back of the store.

“He’s a little…”

“Odd? You’ll find that a lot around here, unfortunately. The war shook up everyone.” She avoided his gaze before turning on her heel and exit the building.

“Where too next?” Stiles asked, walking a foot behind Hermione. She seemed to be on a mission, her heels angrily clicking as she strode.

“The ministry.” She turned around and smirked, her hair framing her face. The only word Stiles could think to think was ‘Beautiful’.


	9. Whisky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with this story, its been quite a while since i have updated.

Baby there’s nothing you can say  
To make me throw it all away  
I won’t give nothing less of me  
Nothing less than all of me

Halestorm (Unapologetic)

Whisky

“Rupert Genim Stilinski, age 18 – one of the ‘lost’ wizards” Meryl scanned a document before she looked up to glance at Stiles from her desk with a warm expression. Rises from the seat behind her desk and firmly lifts her hand for Stiles to take. “It seems as if there were actually a handful of missing wizards and witches that we found were missing after finding you.”

Currently Hermione and Stiles were inside Meryl Jenson’s office. And just like everything else, Stiles was in amazement when they walked into the ministry. It seemed, to him, that the wizard world was bigger, more majestic in every way. But were they better?

He looked at Hermione from the corner of his eye before taking the older witch’s hand and shaking it. “…Hi?” 

The left corner of Meryl’s lip twitched upwards. “I trust that Miss Granger has filled you in on all the details about your,” she looked him in the eyes, “circumstance?”

“She has.” He stated, keeping a careful eye on the elder before him.

“Don’t worry Mr. Stilinski. We only brought you in here today to do a background check.” She explained, and his expression dropped – not that it had far to go. “It’s nothing too bad, we just want to make sure you are who we think you are.”

“Oh…” his eye brows knitted together, why would they think he was anyone else?

Hermione kept her distance when some of the other minister officials came in and out of Meryl’s office. Some just looked Stiles over, while others felt the need to ask him nearly pointless questions. 

“Name?” a curious wizard with graying hair named Orlinski flashed his illuminated wand tip on various parts of Stiles’s face. Hermione could almost feel the uneasiness radiating him.

The boy winced as the light blared over his eyes. “Sti… ah, Rupert”.

“Where were you born?” Orlinski’s expression styed dry as he continued with his interrogation.

Once the last wizard left, Hermione stood by Stiles and rested her hand on his shoulder. 

‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1…’. He stared at the clock, counting down the time each official came in. He was prodded the same questions again and again; “birthday?”, “Who are your parents?”, “Do you know your blood type?”

“Do you need to know the names of the people I’ve had sex with too?” Stiles snarled at a younger female, a healer who worked for St. Mangos. She couldn’t have been much older than 28, her face turned almost white as her hair at his crude comment.

In the corner Hermione’s face fell. “I don’t believe that was necessary”, she snapped. Becoming as equally impatient as her male counterpart.

“No, It’s alright.” The healer answered, a smile creeping on her lips. “I can imagine all of this questioning is exhausting.” Her eyes scanned the office before choosing the perch herself atop Jenson’s maple desk. However, Hermione’s tension did not ease as the healer became casual, thank god her superior was not present.

“I’m Madeline.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Rupert, I promise I’m the last one to see you today.”

Stiles remained unsettled. “Stiles, I prefer to be called Stiles.”

“Ok, Stiles, it seems here that you check out fine.” Madeline flipped through the clip-board that she and everyone else used that day. “Miss Granger and yourself are free to go.” She hopped down from her perch and walked from the room, leaving the door slightly open behind her.

“How do you feel?” Hermione asked her friend. 

“Fine… so when does the fun start?” His completion brightened. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, as soon as we get back to the loft we can start with a few simple charm incantations and potions.”

Stiles smiled. “Thank you, really,” Hermione’s face softened with this.

“Anytime”.

Fever

That night was the first time Stiles was going to write home. He wanted to owl everyone as to how things were coming along. However, every time he tried, things would start shaking. He must have had started over twenty or so letters, but nothing was coming out write.

Hermione came into the sitting room every so often to check-up, but mostly he was silent. 

Ron and Ginny pretended as though Stiles was but a ghost in their presence. Oh, he could feel the distaste from them, but he really didn’t care.

What was surprising was that Harry sat down next to Stiles on the couch at one point in the night. “Hello,” came his cheeky-esque voice.

Stiles jumped nearly a foot in the air, his book and notes dropping to the floor.

“Oi, please don’t do that.” He held a hand above his chest, breathing shakily as he picks of his things.

Harry chuckled slightly. “How are you liking London.”

“It’s alright, more… unusual than I imagine.”

Ron entered the room, eyes scanning before finding his best friend. “Harry, Ginny and I are going to mum and dads’ for supper care to join? Hermione says she has too much work to come with.”

“Actually, I may pop by later. I have some stuff to catch up on as well.” Harry replied.

Ron’s eyes moved to Stiles before scoffing slightly. “I’ll leave you too it then.”

Harry turned back to Stiles when his friend left the room. “Sorry ‘bout ‘im. He’ll warm up eventually, he’s a bit up in arms at the moment.”

“It’s fine, really”. Stile’s gaze dropped down to his book. Ron wasn’t unlike his old ‘friend’ Jackson; both were hard-headed and seemed to hormonally driven.

Harry peeked over at the large leather bound book Stiles was scanning: ‘Magical Beasts and where to Find them’. “Interesting subject”, he pointed out.

“Yeah… Hermione had started me on potions a couple of hours ago.” Stiles defended lightly. “But I’m interested in ‘Beasts’? I guess?”

“Hermione mentioned that some of your friends are werewolves.”

“And I thought I was just a human…” 

“Muggle.” Harry corrected and Stiles raised a questionable brow. “Name we use for none magic people.” Harry expanded. 

“Muggle.” Stiles corrected. “There were certain things that I had access to before; I couldn’t figure things out, before.”

“And now you can,” Harry gently padded the younger male on the shoulder. Stiles tensed a bit, but didn’t shift away.

The sound of padded feet came into the room. “Nice to see you two getting along.” Hermione nonchalantly commented on her way to the kitchen. Slowly, and with a long yawn, she poured herself a cup of coffee. 

“You alright there?” Harry asked.

Hermione turned herself so that she was facing the two dark haired boys. “I was gone long enough for work to pile up.” She shifted her focus to Stiles. “Why don’t you go to the Burrow Harry. Take Stiles with you. Trust me, Stiles, it would do you some good to put that book down and go. Meet everyone.”

Stiles looked between the two. “Everyone?”

“Yes. Ron… our family. Trust me Ron is going to be the only one to be cautious around.” She tipped her mug towards them before retreating back into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, only the creative story line. All rights reserved for MTV and J.K. Rowling.


	10. Wish

“In life you’ll wish for wonderful  
In love you’ll wait, you'll wait  
You can walk away from the water, you could run away  
You could start again with another  
There’s a setting sun where you once found you were in love”

A Silent Film (Danny, Dakota, and the Wishing Well)

Wish

Harry had learned over the past handful of years to do mostly all of what Hermione says. But bringing a complete stranger with him to his girlfriend’s family home was uncomfortable. Stiles and he stood outside the Burrow.

Stiles took note of the enormously tall shack-like building. It was held together by numerous 2-by-4s and other misc. sized lumber. “Do we knock or?” he asked. Harry brushed pass him and turned the knob.

Inside was a warm place. Wood furnishings lead into a neutral colored carpet. The walls were littered with photos of a rather large family. A family in which stood before him. They had yet to notice the two of them. Stiles watched Ron order pieces around a chess board. Across from him sat a blonde woman, her stomach swollen in a way that could only be held by a child. A rather plump woman was sitting in a rather large arm chair, large spools of yarn surrounded her as she knit. A couple other people, all red-headed, were seated on an old quilt-covered sofa.

Harry went around and grasped Ginny, whom was standing near Ron. He viewed the game before them.

“Oh Harry! Good to see you dear!” The plump woman stood up and glided over to Harry and gave him what could only be described as a ‘bear’ hug. She turned pleasantly to Stiles, giving him a questionable but warm look.

Harry explained, “This is Stiles… he’s a friend of Hermione’s”.

“Lovely to meet you Stiles.” She hugged him as well, his eyes swelling in surprise. Most of the company in the room had turned heads and stopped talking to see what was going on. “Now, what are you here for?”

He was nervous, being in a room full of wizards and witches. He felt like he was so far behind in his craft that he was beginning to feel slightly less than others; especially when it came to Hermione, his mentor.

“… Visiting”, he finally responded. Mostly everyone continued on with what they were doing. Everyone except Ron; whom was silently throwing daggers at Stiles.

“I see.” Molly replied, her smile never leaving her cheeks. “I hope you enjoy your stay; supper will be ready in a bit.”

He stood there for a moment awkwardly before taking a seat on the couch next to where a card game was being played.

“Want us to deal you in?” The man with a scar running from left temple to practically his right ear.

“Sure…”, Stiles shakenly commented.

“I’m Bill”, the man offered as he handed Stiles 7 cards.

“Hi”, Stiles’ eyes shifted.

“… And this is George.” George was missing an ear. “And Charlie”, Charlie had a rebellious feel to him. “It was fairly easy to tell that the three of them were brothers; red hair, multitude of freckles, and all slender standing well over 6 feet.

Molly walked back into the sitting room. “Come and eat.”

George practically sprinted over the couch in his quest for food. However, to nobody’s surprise Ron was the first to be seated and already filling his plate. Stiles sat himself between Bill and Harry, chatter picked up quickly; Harry was speaking with the elder man at the head of the table, something about “Muggle items”. On the opposite side of Stiles, Bill was talking about more ‘interesting’ things with Charlie.

Stiles jerked around, “Dragons?” He asked the two older Weasley brothers.

“It’s mah job.” Charlie shrugged whilst stuffing his face with mashed potatoes.

Bill scoffed, “more like yer married to it.” He directed his comment towards Stiles.

“Your job?” Stiles was surprised that it was a career choice, dragons.

“Mhmm,” Charlie swallowed dramatically. “I train them, aid with breeding. Been doing it for 6 years now.” He spotted the intense interest on the pale boy’s face. “No dragons where you’re from?”

“Uh… no.”

“Well where are you from?” Bill was weirdly intrigued.

“Beacon Hills.” Stiles responded simply before adding on “California” after seeing the blank expressions.

“Oh! America!” Charlie beamed. “Fantastic! I’ve always wanted to go!” His flamboyancy made Stiles wonder a few things.

The conversation carried on into dessert, when Stiles turned away from his company to see Ron sitting next to Ginny, with a grave expression on his face that was directed towards Stiles.

“Oi! Ronny boy!” George slurred, he had had around 3 too many fire whiskeys at that point. “You stare at him any longer, people may start to think you’re as gay as Charlie here!” George gripped his older brother on the shoulder as Charlies face turned a slight shade of pink.

Bill began outwardly laughing as Ron’s own expression turned into rage before standing fast and storming from the room.

“Oh Won Won! I’m sorry!” George slurred in response.

“George Weasley!” Molly bellowed. “Don’t you dare tease your younger brother like that!”

“Oh mum,” Bill was coming down from his giggling fit. “He was only joking. And besides, He was staring at Stiles like he wanted to punch him out.”

“Posh!” Molly raged before following her son out of the room.

“Well I think we should get going.” Harry, who hadn’t really said much all evening let alone laugh at his best friend with the rest of the Weasley clan, said before ushering Ginny and Stiles out as well.


	11. Wash Out

“So my father and my son  
As you end what she's begun  
You'll lie patient by her side  
With roses red come lilies white”

Bear’s Den (Above the Clouds of Pompeii)

Wash Out

There was a shift in the bed. Ron had come home.

“Ronald,” Hermione scolded. “Where have you been?” She glanced at the clock on her night stand. “It’s past 2 a.m.”

Ron rolled over and nuzzled he nose into her hair, his breath smelled of vodka and gin.

“God you smell.” She whispered before inching away from him to the other side of the bed.

“Mione… I missed you.” Ron followed her and draped an arm around her.

She shoved the arm away and stood up from the bed. “you’re drunk!”

“I can let loose every once in a while, can’t I?” He responded, grinning from ear to ear. He stumbled to match her stature, while suggestively wiggling his eye brows. “You should join me.”

“Ronald! You need to keep your distance!” She whipped out her wand.

His eyes widened, “aww don’t be like this Mione.” He walked up to her until the tip of her wand was flush with his chest.

“For goodness sakes Ronald! Go to bed.” Ginny had slipped into the room.

“Ginny…” the smile held on Ron’s face had fallen.

After a moment of the siblings’ stare down Ron spoke through his teeth: “fine.” He retreated back to the bed, huffing as he sat down.

“Good” Ginny noted, still irritated. “Now hush up, both of you.” She eyed Hermione as well as her brother. “We are trying to sleep.”

Hermione was shocked. “Ginny, can’t you see what is going on here?” She asked.

Ginny’s expression had yet to falter. “What I see, Hermione, is you two at each other again. Honestly, you two are adults now. Time to start acting like it.” Her voice was cold and uncaring in pitch.

Hermione turned tail and exited the room, pushing past Ginny as she did so. She was livid at Ron, but also Ginny. She was supposed to be her best friend. They always confided in each other. Previously, Hermione would always tell Ginny about Ron’s character flaws, and she would agree. Without argument.

Stiles was laying in his makeshift bed, leaning on a pile of pillows and buried under a dense mixture of books and blankets, when Hermione stomped into the room. He looked up at her and saw the distress on her face. “You ok?” He asked her.

“UH!” She huffed, walking over to him and sitting down in the mess next to him, crossing her arms in frustration. “I can’t stand them! it’s like I don’t matter at’toll!”

Stiles closed the rather large volume in his lap and ran his hand through his mess of hair. “Do you want to get out of here?”

She boiled in her anger for a little while more before making eye contact with him and nodding.

The Café she brought him too was all but deserted. Luckily there was a 24-hour place so close to the flat. It was a small hole-in-the-wall place sandwiched between Olivander’s and a small cloak boutique. At first glance it would have been easily missed, if it wasn’t for shiny copper lettering spelling out “Old Andy’s” Stiles himself may have walked right past.

Hermione had yet to say anything. She sat lost in her cup of tea, growing cold by the second as she neglected to raise the cup to her lips. The anger in her had yet to ease, a million past scenarios bubbling in her mind.

Stiles on the other hand wanted to speak. But had yet to find a subject that may denture Hermione form her trance. A thousand things went through his head in turn.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

Her gaze slowly matched his. “It’s fine. Ronald’s pompous, an inconceivable…” she paused to lower her voice. “Arse,” she finished.

“Why are you still with him?” this came out a little blunter than Stiles would have liked. He failingly clamped his hand over his mouth the moment the words left his lips.

The corner of Hermione’s lip turned upward with a low huff that sounded almost like a chuckle. She continued to curl her legs up into her chest so that she was secure in the soft booth seating they were in. “I seem to be asking myself that very same question lately, more often than not these days.” She finally drew the cup up to her lips and took a sip.

He wanted to ask her more about it, but he knew he shouldn’t. It felt wrong, knowing that she was in this abusive relationship and not feeling like he was in any sort of place to do anything about it. If this were Scott, Lydia, or even Liam, he would not hesitate to say exactly what he was thinking. Coffee sloshed from his cup as the feeling of uneasiness grew.

“Shit!” he used the long, black, sleeve of his shirt to quickly mop up the spill.

“Still having trouble with that I see.” Hermione commented.

He groaned, “only all the time, particularly when in feeling off.”

“They are getting smaller though, these episodes, it’s a good thing.” Hermione was happy that at least something in her life was going right. This meant that Stiles wasn’t a lost cause. And at least for the moment, there was a light at the end of this depressing tunnel. 

The two of them really had not had the chance up until now to have a conversation outside of magic. Surely they would have something to talk about; after all, they were both ‘Muggle borns’. They should have something in common.

“How did you get to be friends with a werewolf?” it was a pondering question she had held in the back of her mind since she met Stiles. Werewolves don’t just wonder into a muggle populated area. None the less become integrated into that society.

Stiles snorted. Not in the way one would while laughing, but in the sense you would at how unbelievable what you are about to say is. “Scott and I have been friends sense we were like 6. Our dads worked for the same police department.” Hermione nodded, following his every word. “When we were 16 there was this body, well half a body, found in the nature preserve in town. He wasn’t a wolf then, but the night we were out snooping around, as my dad says, he got bit by an Alpha.” The story continued; how they figured out that the body was in fact the Alpha’s niece. How they befriended Derek Hale. The Canema, the Alpha pack, the Darak… he did leave out the part about being possessed by the nogustune though. He did bring up his ex-girlfriend and her mother being this B.A. coyote, even if her intentions were all but good.

Hermione had stopped to confirm points in the story. More like the lineage of things. “So Peter had a child with this – Desert Wolf – and you found her… you dated her?”  
“Oi, yeah… for a while. Until you told me about all this.” He gestured around the room, more meaning the magical community and less the shabby café. 

“You broke up with her the day before we left. Didn’t you.” Her eyes became very judgy at that moment.

“… yeah… I didn’t want her to wait for me.”

“Or you just didn’t want anything holding you back.” She corrected. 

And that was exactly what he had done too. There was this whole other world out here that he never imagined. And he was a part of it.  
“Pretty shitty I guess,” he hung his head low.

“Or respectful, she’s free now to do what she wants.” Hermione pointed out.

“I just hope she’s ok.”

“Hey… Stiles.” She took her hand and rested it on his across the table. “I really am sorry that you had to find out about yourself so late. The world has been messed up for a while. I’m sorry your friends were dragged into it as well.”

His glare matched hers in and instant. “How do you figure?”

“Well your friends are part of the magical community as well, though there are a few who would view them below witches and wizards, they are still just as important. It’s all connected, they fell into your world, not the other way around.”

This statement his Stiles like a brick wall. He hadn’t seen it before now. Werewolves, Werecoyotes, Daraks, Kitsunes… they were all a part of this magical world. A world that was his to begin with. His mind was runny a hundred miles a second. Both of their cups smashed and shattered, the lights flickered on and off until there was a loud “pop” and then a black out.

“Hey what’s going on?”, “The power… it when out!”

“Oops?” Stiles offered.

“Sorry everyone.” Hermione retrieved her wand from her pocket and said a spell. In an instant, the lights were back on. “You ok?”

“Yeah… I’m fine. That was… I don’t know what that was.” Stiles confessed, dropping to the floor to pick up the broken cup pieces.

“You were excited, I think.” She smiled, kneeling down with him. “You know you can just leave this here… the owner will use a spell to clean it up.”

He got an idea, and he too took out his wand from his jean pocket. “Teach me.” He said.


	12. Neon

“Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise  
Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised  
Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it  
Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it”

Halsey (Castle)

Neon

It had been a very long night indeed. Though both Hermione and Stiles were wide awake. After the incident at the café, she was showing him all sorts of enchantments. She had been holding off; teaching him, because she thought he should learn the way they all did. Small. With reading and learning about spells, rather than jumping right into using them. But she had to admit, doing it this way took her mind off of all the monstrous things going on in her life.

“This is awesome!” Stiles said with a twinkle in his eye, childish really. A small, blue flame balanced at the end of his wand. It flickered as he pounced it up and down.

Hermione smiled and commented, “You’re getting good at that.”

“Yeah?” it was more of a cheeky comment than a question.

They were casually walking back to the flat. “I don’t want to go in.” She confessed, putting her wand back into her pocket and stepped towards her front door.

“Wait.” Stiles stopped bouncing the flam and followed by her example putting the wand away.

“What?” She turned back to look at him.

He took a deep breath. “You should stop being around these… these people.” He walked up the steps to her. “Every second since I met you, you’ve been making excuses for them. Hermione… they are not your friends… not anymore.”

He was right, she knew it. They had been through so much together; her, Ron, and Ginny. The only other person besides Stiles who is remotely natural is Harry, and even he was just that; neutral. 

“What am I supposed to do Stiles?” She asked, frustrated at the situation… and herself for letting it get this bad.

“I don’t know, leave? You can’t even walk in there without getting judged by one of them.”

“And go where? My parents are still missing; I have no one else!” her voice began to crackle at the end of her sentence, tears peering from the corner of her eyes.

Stiles didn’t mean to make her feel like that, it hurt. He took the sleeve of his shirt; he used it to wipe away the appending tears from her cheeks. She backed away.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean”

“No! It’s just that you’re right.” She laced her fingers in with his. “About everything.” And after getting a rebellious spark that ignited deep inside her; she stood on her tip toes, reaching her free hand around the back of his neck, pulled him down and she kissed him. He stopped breathing, she stopped breathing. A moment of clarity for the both of them. He felt the warm touch heating up between their lips. He moved his hands around her, resting one on her lower and the other on her upper back. She weaved her hand into his hair and gently pulled, rewarding a moan from him.

“What’s this about?” Stiles asked, breaking away from her and placing his forehead on hers.

She didn’t say a thing. Only smiled. 

“I was wondering that same thing.” It was Harry, standing in the doorway, a look of disgust descending across his face.

A loving smile fell from Stiles’s face and he quickly dropped her hands. Hermione stood there with an absent expression, not even bothering to turn around. It only took a second before she burst out into a full out laugh.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about this. I just saw you cheating on Ron.” He was livid, anger swelling with each following second. Lots of confusion swimming through his head, sure her and Ron had their problems. But he didn’t think she would ever do this to him. They had been friends for so long, how could she do this, and with a complete stranger.

“Well…” Hermione pivoted to walk up to her friend of 8 years. “As far as Ron is concerned, I’m done. I’m sorry, but I’m sick of the way he treats me… and Ginny too. I feel like I’d drowning, Harry, and I can’t breathe.” She was losing it. Pushing past Harry, she pulled the door open and disappeared up the stairs, into the flat.

Harry blocked Stiles from following her. 

“Do you mind?” Stiles asked, trying to get around the raven haired man.

“Actually I do, why don’t you go back to The Beacon, or wherever you came from. You’ve done enough here, everything was fine before.” Harry was livid, and set on not letting him inside.

“But everything wasn’t “fine”. Was it?” Stiles reasoned.

Deep down Harry new Stiles was right. He just didn’t want to admit it. The one strong thing he had relied on was their friendship: the one between him, Ron, and Hermione. He knew that was falling apart before his very eyes, I knew it for a while. He just hadn’t wanted to admit and let go just yet.

“Come on Harry, let me in!” Stiles pleaded again, trying to swerve around him, but received an interjection every time.

The door was still wide open, light streaming into the darkness of night; they any one walking by could hear the commotion going on up in the flat:

“Where have you been?!” Ron was in Hermione’s face within a matter of seconds. She diverted him and stomped into the living space. All of her books we askew and threw from the shelves onto the floor. All of Stiles’ things were torn through, ripped and scattered along with the floor blankets.

“What did you do?!” Hermione grumbled angrily, not bothering to wait to hear a reply before stomping forward, into the bed room.

“Hermione where were you?!” Ron demanded again, watching his girlfriend tear her excessively large suitcase from their closet. When she didn’t respond to his questioned, he kept on. “What are you doing?” Again no response. “Where are you going?” he grabbed her wrist in the middle of her folding her sweater.

She looked up, eyes fiery and full of hatred, annoyed. “Let. Go. Of. Me.” Her words were so demanding and harsh, it took him off guard; she was able to jerk her hand from the grasp.

Hermione continued with her packing, tossing in everything from her dresser and the things from her bedside table, even the clock radio went in. “You know, there is only so much I can handle. Ginny doesn’t speak to me anymore, not like we used too anyway. Unless, you know, it’s about you or Harry… Then she basically turns into your mother; scolding me.” She speaks in a deadpanned tone.

“Don’t you think…” Ron tries to defend himself.

“AND when it comes to you. You don’t give a shit unless you want something from me.” She verbally jabbed before Ron could get another word out. “And this morning was the last straw, I’m done with you trying to take advantage of me!” She took her index finger and actually jabbed him the chest.

“Where is this coming from?” He asked, but she had gone back to being mute, not even bothering to look at him anymore. “Is it that guy you brought home?” He obviously didn’t like Stiles. Since he walked into the house, Ron had always been suspicious of the boy.

Silence came from her as she finished shoving articles of clothing into her bag. She didn’t want to interact with him anymore. She had always said that Ron’s emotional range was that of a teaspoon, and he so rarely proved her wrong on the subject.

“Hermione. You need to send that bloody git home. Than everything will go back to normal.” He went to rest a hand on her shoulder, a gesture to try and make her see his side of things. “Like it was before…”

She shrugged it off and zipped up her case before tossing it to the floor, releasing the handle. “We haven’t been “normal” in a long time Ronald, long before Stiles got here.” She stated calmly, not wanting him to cause her any more stress. “Good bye” she sang walking away from the room, the sound of plastic wheels on wood trailing behind her. “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff in a few days.”

Stiles had managed to get back up into the loft. Harry reluctantly stood in the entryway whilst Stiles scrambled to pick up what was left of his on the floor. Ginny was there as well, staring angrily at Stiles, and watching Hermione as she walked into the room.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked frantically and with the same tone of voice from earlier that evening.

Hermione sat her stuff on the kitchen table. “What does it look like I’m doing, Ginny.” It was a cold statement with some sarcasm thrown in.

“It looks like you’re leaving…”

“Of course I’m leaving, you silly bint!” Ginny took a step back, she never thought Hermione would stoop so low as to call her supposed friends derogatory names. It hurt.

“No reasoning with her Gin,” Harry stated to his girlfriend. “She already has her mind set, and she wouldn’t be Hermione if she didn’t”. Hermione was thankful for at least one voice of reason besides her own. At least he wouldn’t put up a huge fuss about her leaving.

“Stiles do you have your things?” Hermione asked reaching down to pick of an armful of books from the floor.

“I think so…” he hadn’t looked up since getting into the flat. And now that he had, he was glad he hadn’t. Ron was staring him down, Ginny held an equally hateful glare.

Together the two of them walked out the door. Stiles first, then Hermione. Harry whispered these words into her ear just as she passed the threshold, “Let me know where you end up, ok?” He was concerned for her, he always has been and always will be.

All she did was nod, letting the door close behind her. Leaving her three ex-roommates inside.


	13. Hurricane

“I went down to a place in Brooklyn  
Where you tripped on LSD  
And I found myself reminded  
To keep you far away from me”

Hurricane

Not a single word had left Hermione’s mouth since they left the flat. Fuming on the inside, Stiles knew to give her space. After all, he was feeling guilty about what happened. If Harry hadn’t seen them Kissing, maybe there wouldn’t have been much of an issue leaving. If he wouldn’t have given in, or even just kept an arm’s distance from her, maybe they wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe he wouldn’t have just screwed everything up. Not just for her, but for himself as well.

Hermione had checked them into a room at the Leaky Caldron. The place was shabby and worn, the tables looked like they needed replacing and the carpets were so scratched up that they had large wholes speckled everywhere like Swiss cheese. But the bed was comfy and the food was good. Sort of reminded him of the janky hotel he and the rest of the cross country team stayed in during his junior year of high school. At least this one didn’t give it’s tenants homicidal thoughts. The only room that was left available for immediate entrance had only one bed. Silently they claimed a personal side and crawled in, both facing their respective wall. 

Hermine was restless in her sleep. Stiles wasn’t even sure if she was asleep, the way she was tossing and turning. Eventually, she stripped off her t-shirt and continued to attempt to fall asleep.

“Hermione…” Stiles said in a groggy voice, trying to shake her awake with his hand to her sweaty shoulder.

She groaned. Rolling over to face him she peeled her reluctant eyes open. “What?” she asked in a whisper, trying not to sound stressed.

“Are you ok?” He asked, but continued to ramble on when she blinked without a response. “I know you’re not ok, I’m so sorry Hermione. We… I shouldn’t have done that…” He was on the edge of frantic, losing his cool, but this wasn’t one of his ‘episodes’, this was more along the lines of a regular panic attack. He was having a really heard time breathing.  
Once she realized what was going on, Hermione shot up in her place. “Stiles… what’s going on?” She was worried, losing herself along with him; scared.

“I think I’m…” he started to respond, before she slapped him across the face. This caused him to stare at her in shock, his hand flying to the heated mark. And just for a second he stopped breathing, too shocked to do anything. “…thanks” he said after a few moments of getting his bearings and breath.

“Does that happen a lot?” Hermione asked searching his face. He looked spent.

“Used to a lot… when my mom died…” it was silent after that; Hermione didn’t know what to say. She felt like she had lost her parents too. Well they were lost, not gone. “They started happening again after Scott was bit.”

“Does it get easier?” She asked, worrying about her own sanity and wellbeing.

“No… I just became numb to it after a while.” He sucked in a few shaky breaths, the lights flickered off and on while a tear stained down his cheek.

“Ok… you’re going to be ok” She managed to get out, attempting to comfort him by reaching over and running her fingers through his messy hair. His eyes closed shut at the soothing motions… yes, it was most definitely helping.

“So, in the morning, what’s going to happen?” Stiles asked, eyes still closed, becoming more lucid; calm. 

Hermione halted her menstruations. She stood up from the bed and looked into the worn mirror atop the vanity. She could see him sit up crossed legged on the bed in its refection. “I guess I… we could go to my parents. It’s been vacant for a year though… all of their stuff is still there though. The beds, the kitchen supplies…”

“If it’s too much for you, I could go home” Stiles felt like a burden. She had offered him basically the moon and… well he felt undeserving. Especially with what has been going on in her life. Not that there wasn’t stuff going on at home for him, he was very indebted to her. He rubbed the back of his neck out of nerves.

“No, No. trust me. You being here is fine. In fact, you belong here.” She was tired. She took a moment too look at him clearly, not that she hadn’t before, but at that moment she really looked at him. He was pale, possibly one of the palest boys she has ever seen. Moles speckled his neck and cheeks. She had noticed them before, but not in the same enduring way she now saw them. They seemed to map the stars, as cheesy as that sounded. His eyes were a striking comparison to the color of whiskey and she thought it was adorable the way his nose was slightly on an upturn.

He noticed her blank stare raking over him. “you ok?” he asked wondering what she was thinking about, she had gone quiet for a while.

“Yeah, I just…” Hermione was never one to be caught up in the moment, but it seems to becoming a thing lately. “I’m sorry.” She practically bolted back to the bed. Tackling him down onto the mattress, his limbs flying awkwardly. She had him pinned underneath her; thighs on either side of his waist and her hands were wrapped around his wrists. He only got to look up at her briefly before she kissed him; her body pressing flush against his.

He kissed her back, passionately. Allowing his hands release he cautiously trailed his hands along her torso. She grabbed his hand again, but this time it was to guide him to the hem of her night shirt.

Stiles broke this kiss. “Hermione, what are you doing?” he breathed, shocked at her sudden burst of lust.  
“That’s just it. I’m doing…” she latched her lips onto his neck.

“I see that but…” she started running her lips to the edge of his collar. “Maybe…” she dragged her hand up under his shirt. “We should…” she grinded her hips into his. 

“Hermione!”

She slowed down to look up. “What?” The comment was innocent, eyes blown.

“Don’t you think this is a little fast, you just broke up with Ron… like a couple of hours ago.” Stiles pointed out, his erection growing by the look of her.

She continued to rub her hand around his stomach. “Are you trying to ruin the mood?”

“No…” he tried to interject.

“Then shut up!” She ripped her shirt off and then tugged at his. He took it off before she attacked his lips again. Hermione started working on his pants, slowly unzipping and plucking the button. She had already gotten rid of her sleep shorts by this point. And now the only things left were her panties and his boxers.

His mind went fuzzy and his thoughts flooded from his mind. He liked her. He wasn’t sure if she liked him back as much. Was this frustration? Anger? Whatever this was he wasn’t going to question it again now. The heat rose throughout his body in a cascade of fire as they continued.

His hands trailed up and down her body in a fever of emotions. Gently he stroked the out sides of her thighs in a chaste motion. Her skin grew hot to the touch whilst he played with the lace on her underwear. Hermione continued to kiss up and down his neck, leaving a trail of saliva. Ever couple seconds she would run her hand through his hair and kiss him hard.

“Are you sure you are ok with this?” Stiles asked as she went to tug down his boxers. Hermione only smiled down at him and the confidence ridden in her eyes was the only confirmation he need as he went to grab her waist and flip her onto her back.

He had more confidence in himself now, picking up the pace. He roughly smoothed his hands all over her while she made the most delectable noises. He brushed his hand down her stomach to feel the dampness leaking out of her. Hooking his hands into the sides of the underwear he pulled down as she raised her hips to make the job easier.  
He trailed his mouth from her lips down her throat and to her breast. He latched on to her nipple with his mouth and started playing with the other between his fingers. His other hand had snuck its way down into her heat. She squirmed out of pleasure with every stroke his thumb made to her clit.

“You’re really good at that,” she panted, trying not to lose herself too soon.

“Fuck, Hermione” He grumbled back whilst grinding his erection on her leg. Even her voice turned him on. “By chance do you have a… protection?”

“Don’t worry about it, there is a spell I can use after”

No more talk just moans and squeals followed as Stiles positioned himself directly between her legs and patently glided in. Hermione’s breath hitched as she engulfed him. He was bigger than Ron, much bigger. Stiles wasn’t as rough either. With Ron it was always ‘One, two, and through’, but with Stiles he took caution.

Stiles wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to get as close to her as possible without squishing her. He thumped in and out with a very awkward rhythm that drove Hermione insane. As soon as she would get close, he would slow down. After a bit she guided his hand down to her clit. He got the idea and started to stimulate it, it was all over after that. Her pulsations were what caused him to go off the deep end as well, and he muttered Shit just as his seed spilled into her.

“That was good, really good.” Stiles stated, rolling off onto the empty side of the bed.

“Thank you,” Hermione muttered, covering her face with her hands, trying to rub the beads of sweat away. She pulled the sheet from their feet. “I needed that.”

“Your welcome?” He asked as she wrapped the sheet around both of them and then draped half of her body on top of his sweaty cover self.

She didn’t respond, only laughed and kissed his cheek just as she closed her eyes.


	14. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter, so it is shorter than most... but i hope you all enjoy

“Somebody shine a light  
I'm frozen by the fear in me  
Somebody make me feel alive  
And shatter me”

Lindsey Sterling Feat. Lzzy Hale (Shatter Me)

Shatter

Hermione woke to the feeling of a nose nuzzling into the nape of her neck. Warm breath tickled her ear as he pulled her closer moaned “Good morning.”

“Morning” She craned her neck to brushed her lips to the tip of his nose.

He raised his hand to her cheek and lightly brushed the hair from her eyes. Stiles whispered “You’re beautiful” then kissed her cheek and snuggled his nose back into her neck. He sent shivers down her spine with the small nibbles he placed there.

“Thank you” she laughed. There was a musty smell in the room from the building being so old, she sneezed. “God, we need to get out of here…” she sniffled, pondering over their current situation.

“Good plan, but not at the moment.” He rolled her under himself. “We can stay a little longer” he uttered, kissing down to her right breast and suckling on the nipple.

“Yeah?” she asked, enjoying the feeling of his body on top of hers; his hands fondling her.

His voice turned husky when he confirmed a “mmhmm”. He trailed his hands up her sides and back down again. He hitched her legs up around his waist, rutting down against her. She felt like melted butter, just there to be molded by him.

Hermione moaned into his mouth when he came back up to ravish her mouth as he entered her slippery heat. “God you’re so gorgeous…” He breathed, slipping in and out without a second thought. 

FEVER

Going back home was difficult for Hermione. The house looked the same, just as she left it a year and a half ago. The memories were stale in her mind. The dust had collected on the photographs set on top the fire mantel, along with the floor boards. Images of her and her parents flashed her mind with every step; her 8th birthday, family game night, late snacks with her mother in July. Though she refused to allow any tears fall, Stiles still notices her alarm.

“You ok?” He asked, pulling her into a strong side embrace.

“Yeah! deffinitally!” She responded in an almost over bearing chipper voice.

Hermione continued to walk through the house, dropping her luggage at the base of the steps and continuing on to her old childhood bedroom. She barely even bothered to look at the rest of the Memoria, it hurt too much to mind. Stiles took his time looking at the dust covered home; most of the pictures were turned face down and the walls were bare. He picked up a frame and looked at its contents. Blank. But not white, it was more like empty space; an odd picture of the living room couch, a mundane object, like something was missing. In fact, after tuning up the rest of the frame he found there were all empty in the same way.

“Hey Hermione?” He asked loudly, trucking up the stairs and following her into her room.

Hermione’s bedroom was the same as she left it. The bed was made, stacks of books off to one side and a mountain of pillows on the other. Her closet was neatly filled with cloths; coordinated by season with her Hogwarts wardrobe perfectly folded inside her luggage case. There were no posters on her wall, only a calendar hanging on the side of one of her three book shelves. A very old computer, covered in dust, sat atop a small desk in the corner.

“Yeah?” Hermione responded whilst dusting off the comforter on her bed.

“All the pictures… the oddest thing…”

She snapped her head up at him. The look on her face would be enough to make Luscious Malfoy cry. There was a stream tears falling down her face. Stiles didn’t say anything to her, just walked over and folded her in his arms. Her tears tuned into sobs. She felt like she could really let go with his arms around her, strong and secure, nothing like her ex.

“But your parents aren’t dead… right?” He asked, attempting to cheer her up. 

She sniffled and looked up. “No… but I don’t know where they are… and they have no idea who I am.”

“So… maybe we should find them.” Stiles suggested with a kind smirk… and odd combination of looks.

“I’ve been looking.” Hermione answered backing away a bit and wiping her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. “But I can’t seem to find them.”

“You know I have a knack for figuring things out.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a note book and pen; Hermione’s eyes following his every move. “Now tell me, what have you done so far.” He popped the pen’s cap off with his teeth and then took a seat on the squishy mattress. She smiled softly and sat next to him. 

She thanked her lucky stars that night.


	15. Risen

“There is a house down in New Orleans   
they call the rising sun  
And it's been the ruin of many a poor girl   
and me, oh God, I'm one”

The Animals (House of the Rising Sun)

Risen

By noon the next day they were beyond exhausted. Hermione ended up sleeping on the large mountain of pillows and Stiles was residing on the bed… well, half of him was; his knees were on the floor with his head and upper body on the bed with papers forming a halo around himself. They spent the majority of the night going over possibility to the Granger’s whereabouts.

Stiles started with the normal routine; weeding out the bad ‘clues’ and putting a tack and string on the good ones. There was a world map hanging on the wall with the UK crossed out and most of North and South America. The Tacks were placed on possible towns and the strings were for directional purposes.

Hermione told him about places she had been with her parents, which was a lot. They had money and means of travel. Even after she started at Hogwarts they traveled without her. Business trips to Paris, Ireland, Denmark, China, even the Philippines. But they were never they type to visit a place twice. They were not fans of the U.S., strictly for political reasons, so that as the first eliminated. Most of the green pins on map had been placed on regions where she knew they had never been. Basically, most of the places were third world or places surrounded by ocean.

She woke up with a strain in her neck. “Bloody hell…” she groaned and stretched her neck in odd angles. She gazed over to the boy sleeping with his mouth slightly open, lightly snoring. “That does not look comfortable.” She mumbled before shaking his shoulder and placing her lips next to his ear. “Hey. Stiles. Wake up.”

Nothing happened. She said it a little louder; shook a little harder, but still nothing. She stood up behind him and hooked her arms under his to hoisted him up, and attempted to move him to a better spot at the very least.

“Hey! Hey!” Stiles yelped from his sleep like a wounded animal, arms flailing; luckily they missed Hermione’s face. She let go, causing him to drop to the floor. Thankfully he caught himself before faceplanting.

“Oh God! Stiles I’m sooo sorry!” she pleaded dropping to her knees beside him.

Stiles rubbed the pads of his hand. “What were you trying to do?”

“You looked awkward, half off the bed; I did try to wake you.” She defended. “Just trying to help.”

“Oi… Kind of a habit of mine, I don’t really notice anymore.” He confessed like it wasn’t a big deal. He gazed around the room, the mess of papers and books made him groan. “Did we make any progress last night? I can’t remember when I dozed off.”

“A bit, actually. Narrowed down regions. Though I don’t know what else to do at this point. It’s not like we can go to all these places.” Hermione yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Stiles snorted. “You’re a witch. I’m a wizard. Remember? It seems like we could do whatever we want.” The magic was still new to him, and he didn’t understand it’s limitations.

“Stiles… I’ve been through the whole worldly search before, it’s not that easy.” Hermione explained, laying her head on his shoulder. She was so tired, not only physically but mentally too. Even after sleeping for at least 6 hours.

“But what do we have to lose?” There was something in the way he said it that took her by surprise. Instead of his usual innocent and playful banter, he seemed somewhat dominant in his words. “I mean, we have nothing but time, right?”

“Sure, but I do have a job you know.” She stated, looking over their notes. “I would have to take leave and with the chaos going on there… I’m not so sure it would be a good idea.”

“Hermione, listen.” He shuffled so that they were facing each other. He was being serious and held a sympathetic twinkle in his eye. “Speaking as a person who only has one parent… this is more important than any desk job.” Deep down she knew he was right. She was just to pig headed to think of herself most of the time. “Like it’s great and everything that you want to help everyone else, god I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come for me, but you need to do this. Otherwise you might lose them. You don’t want that on your continence.”

It took her a moment to speak, you know… being speechless does do that. “Well,” She sighed. “I suppose I could let my boss know I will be taking a leave of absence… but I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” She rubbed her temple with her right thumb and index finger.

Stiles rubbed her back in soothing circles. “You can think on it.” He said before kissing her forehead and making his way out of the room.

“No,” She said softly down at her feet. “I need to do this.” She walked over to her desk and moved the mess aside. She needed to write to Jenson, she was quitting her job to look for her family.

FEVER

Downstairs, Stiles was shuffling through the cabinets; looking for something to eat. The was a knock at the door. “Hermione?!” the person on the other side bellowed. It was a voice he vaguely recognized. “Open up woman! I know you’re in there!”

“Stiles, could you get that?” Came Hermione’s voice from the upper level.

“Hello?” Stiles asked, midway to open the door. George Weasley was on the other side, all bright smiles and holding a box.

“Oh, Hi Stiles. The bird home?” He pushed passed the dark-haired boy and waltzed through the threshold to plop the box onto the first surface he saw.

Hermione came flying down the stairs, she had changed into jeans and her hair was tossed into a bun. “George! What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “Came to drop some stuff off you left at Ron’s. He really didn’t want to be the one to do this, I volunteered.”

“So, you’ve heard?” She ended on a flat note. Of course, the whole Weasley clan would know about her and Ron’s break up by now, but she just wasn’t sure how much Ron or Ginny would have told them about what happened.

“Yeah,” He paused to look sympathetically between Stiles and Hermione. Harry told him what had happened, but he chose not to be sour about it. “And trust me, I’m on your side. Charlie, Bill and Fleur too, we know Ron’s a git. Mum on the other hand… not so much.”

Hermione rubbed her eyes, “that’s only to be expected, but don’t cause a rift on my account.”

George chuckled and then wrapped an arm around both Stiles and Hermione, both stiffened. “Nah… happens occasionally, keeps things in balance. Have you two eaten? My treat.”


	16. A New Hope

“I know that we're far from where we need to be  
But the world wasn't made in just one day  
Though our journey's long, I know our love is strong  
You're my shooting star, we're flying high above”

Imagine Dragons - Levitate

It felt odd to Hermione. Having brunch with George and Stiles. Not that it was bad by any means, just weird. George filled them in on what happened since they left under a week ago: apparently, Ron went on a rampage and practically destroyed the flat. Harry kicked him out. Ron is at the burrow now, continuing to bother his parents most likely.

“Percy said he brought some bimbo home last night. Mum found her going through her things early this morning. She has now enlisted the rest of us to ‘deal’ with him.” George seemed exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in a few days.

“How wonderful.” Hermione rubbed her eyelids, this was a mess. And there was nothing she could do to make the situation better. She felt Stiles warmly take her hand under the table to comfort her, she excepted without a thought.

“Granted, none of this is your fault Mione, or yours Stiles. Ron’s always had loose screw… or whatever it is the muggles say. I just wanted to let you know, and it would probably be best if you didn’t come round for a while. The burrow that is… you’re always welcome at the shop.” George offered a pat on the shoulder. He had always seen Hermione as a sister, and equal to Ginny.

Hermione pondered for a moment. “Actually, we’ll be leaving for a while.”

George was taken back. “Where are, you going?” He looked over to Stiles.

“We’re going to go look for her parents.” Stiles responded, saying his first words since they sat down.

“I thought you said that was a lost cause?” George was concerned. Previously, Hermione had told everyone that the spell she put on her parents was irreversible. Said that there was no point in looking for them, because there was no way for them to remember her.

“Maybe, but there’s not harm in trying.” Hermione had made up her mind, and she was confident that with both her and Stiles working on it, they would find a way. And if all was lost, she would at least know if they were ok or not.

George gave her at triumphant smile. “If you need any help, I’m only an owl away. And I’m positive Percy and Charlie would be able to help as well.”

“Thank you.”

FEVER

Hermione walked back to her house with a jump in her step and a sheer determination in her soul. With Stiles by her side, she felt that there was a new hope the horizon. Now that she knew she had back up, George and Percy and Charlie, nothing would bring her down.

“You look better.” Stiles said, stopping her on the sidewalk in front of the house.

Hermione passionately jumped into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth. “I feel better! Like everything is going to be ok.”

It didn’t take long for them to pick up their things. Stiles seemed to mainly live out of his suite cases nowadays anyway, and Hermione, well she travels ‘light’.

Their first stop was going to be Romania. Her mother always pointed out that it was a sorry excuse for a country, but her father always had a passion for its rich culture and heritage. Even more so after they found out their daughter was a witch. In some ways, Stiles reminded her of him, their sense of wonderment and natural curious abilities. Stiles would have made a great Ravenclaw. Maybe that’s why they get along as well as they do.

“So how are we going to do this?” Stiles asked, bags in hand and Hermione by his side.

She eyed him questionably. “What do you mean?”

“Like are we going to use a port key… to get to Romania?”

Hermione twiddled with the split ends of her hair. She hadn’t thought about that. On the one hand, using a port key or apparating would be the most efficient way to travel. But on the other, her parents were muggles. And if they were going to be tracking down muggles, it would be best to do as they do. “I thought we could take the train.”

Now Stiles was really taken back. The train? Did people still use that as a practical way of transport anymore? “The train? Wouldn’t it be faster to at least fly?” he childishly flapped his wrists to make like a bird’s wings flapping.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I like the train. And to be completely honest, I’m not a fan of heights.”

FEVER

It was Stile’s first time ever in a train station. The exhaust from the engine cars were so thick they could only be described as either whimsical or toxic. It was like stepping back in time, back when things were easy. Huff! Easy? Things were never easy. Stiles shook his head at the notion.

“So… How do we get on?” Stiles had no clue.

Hermione had to hold in a laugh. She forgot that the states rarely, if ever, used trains. “We have a platform number, we just need to give our tickets to the people admitting.” To their left was a row of counters, just before the actual platform entrances. 

The compartments were large, much to Stiles’ surprise. He half expected them to be like a plane, with rows and rows of shared seating. Instead, he and Hermione got their own compartment. They took a seat on the large plush cushions opposite each other. It reminded Hermione of the Hogwarts Express.

Stiles stretched out on his side. “How long is it going to take to get their again?” It wouldn’t be so bad, sitting on the train for a lengthy period. It was better, in his opinion, than most other forms of transport.

“10 hours I’d say.” Hermione answered, pulling a book from her shoulder bag.

“Right,” He snuggled his nose into his arm. He was definitely going to take a nap. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at his childlike actions… well they were more ‘innocent’ than ‘childlike’. But all the same they made her smile.

2 hours later; Hermione had just about finished her story. Putting it down she got up and shuffled across the rug and sat down on the other side. She reached out and ran her finders through Stiles hair. She watched as gave a grateful moan and opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” she said, pulling her hand away.

“Not morning Hermione. Let me sleep.” He tried to nuzzle back into his sleeping position, but Hermione waked him in the side.

“Supper will be coming around soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” She explained, bringing her hand down to wipe some drool off the side of his mouth. “You’re a mess.” Not that it was any different whenever he slept, but she didn’t want her – whatever he was to her- look like a slob.

He sat up, not bothering to argue her. “I’m always a mess.” He stated, rubbing is forehead into neck.

This catlike behavior made her heart speed up. Again, it brought her back to the literal idea of his ‘innocence’. She patted her hand on his head, crumpling it this way and that.

“Not gunna work.” He mumbled. “Lost cause.”

She put her hand down, accepting defeat. “I give up.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled again.

“Don’t get used to it.” She grumbled, shaking him off her.

Stiles sheepishly smirked at her, “I don’t plan on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a filler chapter, I know. But i feel like it gave you guys a bit of direction into where this fic is going. Happy Reading.


	17. Land of Hearts

“If a great wave shall fall  
And fall upon us all  
Well then I hope there's someone out there  
Who can bring me back to you”

The Calling – Wherever You Will Go

It was 3 in the morning by the time the train pulled up to its destination. The sky was extremely dark, making the stars pop out even more than they did back in London.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky so clear.” Stiles commented, looking up; trying to find the few constellations he knew.

“It’s the lack of light pollution. Back at Hogwarts, the sky looked like this all the time.” She missed those days, back when life wasn’t so upside down.

“No need to brag.” He nudged her with his elbow, obviously not actually caring that much.

Their first stop was the youth hostel that Hermione had booked for the. She had never stayed in one of those places before. When she would travel with her mum and dad they would always stay in fancy places like penthouses and deluxe suites. She was nervous about it, if it was safe.

Stiles had always wanted to travel around Europe, but really any place outside of Beacon Hills was A-Ok with him. The only type of “vacation” he had ever been on was with his father to certain police conventions. It didn’t matter to him where he stayed, as long as he was out.

Their room was as small as she imagined. There were two bunk beds on either side of a window in the back of the room and full size off to the side, across from a half bathroom. One of the bunks already had stuff skewed on top, but the rest were empty.

“The large one?” Stiles asked, he was not a fan of bunk beds. It weirded him out, the thought of having someone sleeping either above or below him, even if it was going to be Hermione.  
“Most certainly.” She placed her bags on the bed and yawning. 

Being there, in this place, was making all this real to Hermione; that she was actually doing something for her for once. She was determined more now than ever to find her parents, but she was scared. What if they wouldn’t find them?

Stiles collapse on the bed and wiggled around to nestle in a ball. “I’m tired!” he said with little too much enthusiasm.

Hermione looked down at her watch. “Well, it is almost 4 in the morning.”

“I want to snuggle.” The childless was just seeping out of his words.

Hermione smiled and without a word, she crawled onto the bed. Immediately he wrapped his arms around his waist and yanked her to his chest.

“Stiles!” She tried to protest, muffled by his firm chest. “You’re squishing my nose!”

He loosened up a bit and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “Night!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and tried to think happy, peaceful thoughts so that she could get at least a few hours of sleep.

“Hermione! Look here!”

They had slept until around 9 am. It could have been longer, but their hostel mates came in with doors banging and loud laughter. Stiles was determined to go back to bed after that, but Hermione yanked him out of bed anyway.

They walked down the cobbled walkway of Bucharest. It was one of the oldest cities the country. Mostly known for its folklore of Werewolves. Which made Stiles extremely excited. He pointed out every statue and gave his own little take on it. Surprising to Hermione, he was spot on with most of it.

“How do you know all of this?” Hermione asked after Stiles talked about the 8th monument.

“I did a lot of research when Scott turned… he was in denial, and I wanted to help as much as I could.”

“All online?”

“Most, the local library didn’t have much.” More pride showed threw his voice inflictions. It was nice to know he could impress her on something… even if all of it was available to anyone with Wi-Fi. 

Hermione nodded, understanding she took Stiles hand to continue forward. Obviously, this trip wasn’t for sightseeing. They had a mission, and she didn’t know if this was timely or not. She wanted to get to the court office, see if anyone there would recognize her parents from the handful of photos she had in her purse.

A small bell rang above the door. The place was old, but for not being updated in years it still held all its functions and purpose. “May I help you?” a man in his mid-30’s asked. He was the only one inside, surrounded by framed notes of authenticity and awards.

“Yes, we need some help.” Hermione responded, shuffling through her bag.

The man looked alarm, maybe those weren’t the words she should have used.

“My mum and dad went missing a while ago.” She handed the man her photos. “I was wondering if you have seen them?” She tuned a wary face.

The man inspected them, brows wrinkling in concentration. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen them.” He handed the pictures back to her. “Where did you mention you were from?” The man was suspicious, picking up on her accent. And Stiles had yet to speak.

“London.” She didn’t skip a beat to allow him to answer. “Is there anywhere else we could check? The landscape around here is rather sparse.”

“There are always the trading posts, one in between each township. But I wouldn’t go door to door asking people.” The man was serious, almost like he knew about something out of the ordinary. “People don’t like being Bothered.”

“What about posters.” Stiles chirped.

Hermione wanted to smack her head, or rather, his head. No one does that anymore, that type of advertisement usually leads to unwanted solicitors and pranks. The man gave them a curious look, not understanding the American’s reasoning.

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you, sir. We’ll be on our way now.” She reached up and turned Stiles around by the shoulders.

“I thought it was a good idea.” He said, brushing her off.

“That would take too long.” She replied. “I was thinking a faster approach.”

He knew what she meant… after all, he was a Wizard. And she a Witch.


	18. ideal plot

A Note: Help

So, I know this story has been on haitus for a while. I was wondering if any of you people, my readers have any suggestions as to where this story should go from here. I’m open to any and all ideas. Either send me a message or comment in the review box below!

thank you all,

orangecoloredsky


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